Inheritance
by msyking
Summary: WIP. Sam and Dean are trying to do their jobs, but someone keeps beating them to it. When they find out who it is, they make new friends, but soon discover that their new contacts have a secret that's even darker than either Sam or Dean could have imagined. And that's saying a lot!
1. Chapter 1

Inheritance

A/N: This story relies heavily on original characters. I hope you guys don't mind. I've just had this plotbunny hopping around in my head for _weeks_ and I just had to write it!

I'm not exactly sure about the timeline of this, but I know that they _do_ have the bunker, if that helps.

I hope you guys enjoy, and please leave some feedback.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters. They belong to Eric Kripke.

A/N 2: I noticed a slight continuity error in this chapter, plus some typos and other errors in the other chapters, so I went ahead and fixed them.

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Chapter 1

Dean pulled into the motel parking lot, with Sam asleep in the passenger seat. He parked the Impala, slamming on the brakes in the process, startling Sam awake.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean exclaimed, pounding on the steering wheel in his frustration.

"Hm? Wuz that?" Sam said, still groggy from his nap. He sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes with a yawn, stretching as much as he could in the small space of the Impala's cab.

"Ya know, it's probably just going to be the same damn thing at this place too!" Dean nearly shouted, gesturing around him, referring to the town in which they had just arrived.

Sam, having woken up a bit more, seemed unconcerned with his brother's outburst. "Yeah, well. At least we can check it out." He opened his door and climbed out of the car. Once he was able to stretch and fully extend his limbs to their maximum reach, he leaned back down to look at Dean, who was still fuming in the driver's seat. "Why don't you get out, take a stretch and try to cool off while I get us a room?"

"I don't need to cool off, dammit, I need to hunt something!" Dean snapped, striking the steering wheel again.

"Dean!"

Dean finally looked up at his little brother with a huff. "Yeah, alright." Dean begrudgingly agreed and climbed out of Baby.

This was the fourth town that they had come to on the heels of some supernatural whatsit in the last 2 weeks. The first town they went to had, as the local newspapers described, "a wild animal epidemic". Victims turned up with their necks torn out and a mysterious lack of blood to boot. Sam and Dean of course came to the conclusion that vampires had nested somewhere in the vicinity.

So, of course, they high tailed it to the small Nebraska town. They did their usual research: FBI get-ups, witness reports, examining dead bodies, etc. Eventually, they got out a map and marked the places where the bodies were found. They then discovered that all of the bodies were in a bit of a circular pattern and right in the middle was an old, rundown sawmill that had gone out of use a few decades before. That seemed like the perfect place for vamps to nest.

As soon as they discovered it, the brothers stormed the place one bright afternoon, machetes drawn, dead man's blood at the ready, only to discover that the nest had already been cleared. They didn't see any vamps, but there were obvious signs that the mill had been inhabited: a few dusty old mattresses, some empty liquor bottles, and of course streaks of blood on the walls, and puddles on the floors. They checked the whole building from top to bottom, but didn't come across any vamps.

Once the two made sure that there were no surprises lurking anywhere inside the building, they decided to do a quick sweep of the surrounding property. That's when they discovered it, behind the building about 30 yards out: a mass grave. Bodies had been piled up and burned to cinders. There were a few skulls and a some other smallish bones that survived the blaze, and upon further inspection, they found that the skulls did in fact have fangs.

The boys had no clue who could have done this. If Gordon were still alive they would have suspected him, since vampires were his specialty. As it was, they were just grateful that some other hunter, or hunters, had the courtesy to do their job for them. They left the old mill, but stayed in town for another day, just in case one or two vamps had escaped the massacre of their nest and started killing again. Once the brothers were satisfied that there was nothing left to do, Sam found them another hunt and they were on their way to Connecticut, for what appeared to be a windego.

However, when they got there, it was the same story: they took their time to investigate, only to find that the creature had already been destroyed, and its hostages released. Dean and Sam where a little frustrated that they wasted their time again, but at least _they_ didn't have to deal with it. Sam found them another mission and they were off.

However, once they got to the third location, only to find that they were once again a day late and a dollar short, that's when Dean decided to start taking it personally. Sam on the other hand was just glad that he and his brother weren't the only ones risking their necks trying to keep people safe. Their job wasn't exactly the safest, and as a result other hunters were few and far between and sometimes it seemed like he and Dean were the only ones still left in the game. Sam knew that wasn't true, but it still felt that way sometimes and he was just happy to see evidence that he and his brother weren't the only ones left fighting the good fight.

So now here they were in the fourth town, somewhere in Oregon. Dean was positive that they were just going to run into another dead end. He was pacing in the parking lot, his breath puffing out of him in great clouds from the chill of the late October evening.

He was so engrossed in his own musings that he didn't even notice the huge, black Dodge Ram barreling through the parking lot, heading straight for him. The honking horn and blinding light caught his attention and he dived out of the way before being mowed down. The truck came to an abrupt stop in front of one of the rooms and the engine cut off.

"Hey, asshole, watch were you're going!" Dean shouted at the driver before they even got out of their vehicle. He stood up, brushing gravel from his elbows as he did.

The driver hopped out of the truck and turned to Dean. "I don't have time to deal with morons, alright buddy. Just do me a favor and go screw yourself, huh?"

Dean was taken aback for a moment. He hadn't expect someone so small to be driving a vehicle so large. The woman couldn't have been more that 5 foot 5. Dean watched as she quickly stepped up on the back wheel of her truck and hefted a duffle bag out of the bed that looked to be nearly the same size as she was. With her burden slung over her back, she stormed to her room, unlocked the door and slammed it closed on her way in.

Dean, finally having regained his composure and shouted, "Yeah that's right. Walk away!" Of course he realized he'd said it too late for his retort to have any effect. He was just happy that no one was around to witness his minor blunder.

"Uh, Dean?"

Dean paused before he swung around to find the cautiously confused face of his brother staring at him. "Hey Sam."

"Hey. You okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said, a bit abashedly. He knew it must've looked like he was just crazily shouting at the open air. "Just some... jerk... nearly ran me over!" Dean said, with a bit of a huff.

"Oh. Well, you sure you're okay then?" Sam asked, his brow knit with a bit of concern, looking his brother up and down. Dean didn't _look_ like he was injured, but he just wanted to be sure.

"Yeah, yeah, Sammy. I'm alright." Dean waved his off his little brother's concerns and gave a quick glare towards the door that that woman had gone through.

Sam's eyes darted to the door that Dean was eyeing and said, "Alright... you wanna help me with the bags?"

"Yeah, okay," Dean agreed and popped the trunk. The two grabbed their bags and headed for the room that Sam had procured for them. Dean was happy that they were a few doors down from the woman that almost killed him, so that they wouldn't have to share a wall with her. Who knows what kind of noises a woman like that could make during the night. Dean grimaced when he realized that he could've worded that better.

He was still pissed, dammit, and he didn't want to think of her like that. Yet. He didn't want to think about how smooth her rich, caramel-colored skin looked. Nope. He also didn't wanna think about how her jeans stretched so perfectly over her legs and ass as she stepped up on the wheel of her truck to grab her duffle from the back. He also didn't want to admit that, even thought she was only a little over 5 ft, he had felt just a bit intimidated by her. Uh-uh. He couldn't think like that. The woman almost killed him after all! No, Dean really wanted to know was who the hell was poaching all of their hunts. He voiced his concern to Sam.

"Dean, I doubt it was the same guy, or guys, at every location. There _are_ other hunters out there. Not just us, and not just one other guy."

Dean of course knew that Sam was right, but he wouldn't be placated just yet. "Look, Sammy, I don't need your friggin' _logic_ , okay?" Dean said with a scowl, bobbing his head a bit as he stressed the word 'logic'.

Sam raised his hands in defeat and walked away. He knew from experience that there was no talking to his big brother when he got into one of his moods. So he just headed to the bathroom for a quick shower to wash away the grime of the road before heading to bed. It was late, and he figured they could get a fresh start on the case in the morning. He also figured he could get a bit of revenge on his brother for being such a mopey brat by using up as much of the hot water as he could before Dean got his turn. Sam knew that probably wasn't the best tactic to use, since it would most likely just cause Dean to be even more irate. But Sam figured, what the hell? Why not have a little fun at his brother's expense? Maybe the jerk would lighten the hell up!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Because of the violent crime scene depicted in this chapter, I will be changing the rating of this story to M. Please enjoy.

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Chapter 2

Dean had just about had it. He was pissed that all of his hunts were being pulled out from him, and to top it off some hot chick in a truck nearly made roadkill out him! Wait, did he say 'hot'? 'Cause he meant bitchy. Yeah, bitchy. Or whatever! Dean scoffed at himself and pushed up from the edge of the bed that he claimed. He went over to one of Sam's duffle bags and fished out his brother's laptop, logging onto the motel's free WiFi. He knew Samantha was going to take her sweet time in the john, so Dean decided to pass some time by trying to do a bit of his own research into this hunt they were supposed to be on. At least if he was doing something he could take his mind off of how pissed he was supposed to be.

He sat down at the table with the laptop and opened the browser to the page that Sam had shown him earlier. It was a police report about a woman who had been brutally murdered. Now, a simple murder case wouldn't usually pique the Winchesters' interest, but there was nothing 'simple' about this one.

The woman had been torn to pieces is such a way that bits of her could be found throughout the entire house and surrounding property. The living room was the worst: her intestines were strung up like streamers at a party and her heart had replaced the pendulum in the grandfather clock that sat in the corner. Spatterings of blood were found on _every single_ wall in the house. Toenails and fingernails were sticking out of ice cubes in the kitchen freezer. Her bones littered _every_ room. It looked like brain matter had been used to mop the floors. Her hair and other viscera had even been found in the yard, front _and_ back! And that was just a taste of the horrors to be found in that house.

Dean shuttered as he read the report. It sounded like major overkill. Whatever did all of this was _seriously_ pissed off. He wanted to gank this bitch so bad his entire body tensed in anticipation. He started to jiggle his leg up and down in excitement. He couldn't wait!

Dean was still heavily engrossed in his research when Sam finally emerged from the bathroom. Towel tied in a knot around his waist, steam billowing around him and his hair still dripping. He moved over to his bags to rummage around for some sleepwear to change into. "Shower's all yours, man." Sam had another towel that he was using to attack his dripping locks. He paused and looked over at Dean, who didn't appear to be paying his brother any attention. "Dean!" Sam shouted.

Dean jumped, finally acknowledging Sam's presence. "What?"

"Shower's all yours," Sam repeated, a bit slower this time.

"Oh, alright. Gimme a minute," Dean grumbled before turning back to the screen.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked. He dropped the towel he was using to dry his hair with so he could use both hands to rummage through his clothes.

"Just reading up on the case," Dean answered, pointing at the screen.

"Really?" Sam asked, incredulously. " _You're_ doing research?"

"Yes, _I'm_ doing research. What the hell is your problem?"

"Nothing. Just... you usually leave that up to me. But if you wanna take the initiative for once, be my guest." Sam finally found the clothes he was looking for and quickly changed into them.

"Dude!" Dean complained. "If you're gonna do that, go in the other room!"

Sam just rolled his eyes in response and fell into bed. He was tired and wanted to be well rested when they delved into the case the following day. "Take a shower and get some sleep Dean," Sam's voice was slightly muffled from the pillow that his face was half buried in.

"Hey! I'm the older brother. I tell _you_ what to do, alright!"

Sam just chuckled and ignored the admonishment. Soon, he was breathing heavily, indicating that he was fast asleep. Dean, had gone back to his research and waited for his little brother to doze off before finally getting up from his position at the table. He couldn't let Sam think that he was going to actually _do_ what the younger Hunter said! Especially when it has traditionally been Dean telling Sam what to do.

He had finally gotten his shower and was heading to bed when he heard the roar of an engine and the squeal of tires. He took a peek out the window and saw that huge black pickup tearing off down the street. Dean scoffed and shook his head before stepping away from the window. He flopped down on his bed, heaving a sigh of relief before joining his brother in slumber.

The next morning, Sam and Dean were dressed in their FBI get-ups and were headed out to interview the victim's relatives. On the way to the Impala, Dean noticed a conspicuous absence of a certain black Ram. That woman must have been out all night. Dean didn't think much of it though. He an Sam piled into the car and took off.

As they drove, Sam said, "Alright, so our vic, Sasha Martinez, had a husband named Hector. They had two kids, daughters: Patrice and Marisol, aged 10 and 7. It was actually the kids that found their mom when they came home from school. Their dad was at work at the time."

"Wow! That's a lifetime of therapy, right there."

"Tell me about it."

"So, what are we looking at here? You thinking demons?"

"Well, it seems that way. I don't know of anything else that can do _that_ to someone. Although, I've never seen a demon doing anything quite so vicious. I mean, yeah, they've torn people apart before, but not nearly to this degree. So, I don't know man."

"Yeah... me neither," Dean said with a sigh.

"Well," Sam said, "the dad and kids aren't staying at the house... for obvious reasons. They're staying at a hotel a few miles from here. Best Western."

"Hm. Nicer than the places we stay," Dean mused.

"Tell me about it," Sam repeated ruefully.

Dean kept driving until they reached their destination. They parked the car and walked into the lobby. Once inside, they asked the balding, middle-aged man at the reception desk where they could find Hector Martinez. The man, Wilbur, according to his name tag, was too preoccupied with his task to even look up from his computer.

"I'm sorry, Sir. We cannot give out guest information." Wilbur continued to pound away at his keyboard, stopping periodically to squint at the computer screen.

"Perhaps you didn't hear me," Dean said with just a bit of malice seeping into his voice. "I said my name is _Agent_ Hetfield. I need to know which room Hector Martinez is staying in. We need to ask him some questions." Dean still had his badge out, waving it in front of Wilbur, but still the man refused to look up.

"Uh-huh," was all they got out of the man who was once again squinting at his screen.

"HEY!" Dean shouted, pounding on the desk. "WILLY!"

Wilbur finally looked up, with a startled look on his face that quickly shifted to one of annoyance. However, when he finally noticed the suits and badges his demeanor changed once again to one of compliance. "I'm so sorry. What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"As I said-" Dean started, but Sam could see that his brother was going to lose it if he had to repeat himself again, so he interrupted Dean's explanation.

"I'm Agent Ulrich, this is my partner, Agent Hetfield," Sam said, gesturing first to himself, then to Dean. "We're looking for Hector Martinez. We need to ask him about the recent death of his wife, Sasha. Could you tell us what room he's staying in, please?" Sam finished as he and Dean put their badges back in their breast pockets.

"Of course, one moment please, while I look that up."

Wilbur looked back at his computer screen and typed in some commands. Then more commands. Then soon he looked as if he had forgotten about the two agents standing before him. Two agent _impersonators_ , but still, _he_ didn't know that! Where was the respect? Dean was about to lose his cool again when Wilbur finally looked back up.

"He's in room 223, gentlemen."

"Thank you, Wilbur," Sam said before he and Dean took off.

Luckily, Dean decided not to press the matter of poor customer service, much to Sam's relief. Sam did however have to talk Dean into taking the stairs instead of the elevator. It was only on the second floor, after all.

Once they reached room 223, they knocked and waited patiently for Hector to answer the door. They heard shuffling and muffled voices on the other side of the door before it was finally answered my a very disheveled-looking man in a dirty t-shirt and jeans.

"Can I help you?" Hector asked, looking suspiciously at the two men in front of him.

"Uh, yes," Dean began as he and Sam removed their fake badges once again to be presented. "I'm Agent Hetfield, and this is my partner, Agent Ulrich. I know this must be a very difficult time, but we were wondering if we could have a moment to ask you a few questions."

"This about my wife?"

"Uh, yes sir, it is," Sam answered with genuine sympathy.

"Well, I already spoke to an agent yesterday."

Dean and Sam paused for a beat, not sure what to say. Was it happening again?

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A/N: I was pretty clever with the Agent names, don't ya think? No? Just me? Okay then... *slinks back into darkness*


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I may have gotten some of the lore a bit mixed up. Please forgive me if I did.

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Feel free to leave a comment to let me know of any issues there may be. Thanks and enjoy.

Chapter 3

Sam and Dean were both frozen. Neither of them could believe this was happening _again._ Someone else had beaten them to their case. Dean was livid, but he maintained his outward composure, even though there was a tsunami in his mind.

But they had to keep going. They had to continue their investigation, because what if that thing killed whoever it was that was also investigating before they had a chance to gank it? Or what if it was an actual FBI agent who had spoken to Hector?

With those thoughts in mind, Sam was the first to recover, and luckily Dean followed suit, instead of making a stink about the situation. "Yes sir, and we're very sorry to have to disturb you again. We were just hoping to ask you a few more questions. I hope you understand. What with the very... unusual way that she died, we just _really_ want to catch whoever did it." Sam paused for a moment to let the request sink in before he asked, "Would it be okay if we came in?"

"Uh," Hector heaved a heavy sigh, glancing at the room behind him. Turning back to Dean and Sam, he said, "Alright. Come in." He stepped back, making way for the agents to enter, then shut the door behind them.

Once inside, Sam and Dean saw that the room was just as disheveled as Hector was. There were clothes in various states of filth, the beds were unmade, there were empty food containers, toys, shoes and other items strewn about the space.

In the midst of the chaos were two small girls, cuddled together on a comfy-looking armchair. The girls, contrary to their father, looked clean and healthy. Patrice was wearing a blue dress, with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. Marisol had on pink overalls with a white T-shirt, with her short hair falling over her forehead and ears in soft curls. Dean was glad that, even though the father didn't seem to be taking very good care of himself, at least he seemed to be taking care of his daughters.

"Uh, sorry about the mess," Hector apologized, clearing debris from the couch so that Sam and Dean could sit, though Dean remained standing.

"Don't worry about it. We understand," Sam said.

"Yeah, it's fine," Dean commented, glancing toward the girls. They were pretending to watch cartoons, but Dean caught them glancing towards the adults a few times, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. He thought that maybe he should speak with them while Sam spoke with their father. They were the ones who first witnessed the scene, after all.

"Now, I have to apologize in advance, Mr. Martinez. We may ask some of the same questions that our colleague asked you yesterday," Sam explained, his voice dripping with kindness. "Just try to bare with us, and remember that we _are_ trying to help, okay?"

"Alright, whatever," Hector sighed, running a hand through his greasy hair as he sat down.

"Now, Mr. Martinez, due to the violence of the attack, it seemed like it was very personal. Do you know of anyone who would have wanted to harm your wife?"

While Sam spoke to Hector, Dean sidled his way over to the Patrice and Marisol. As he made his way over, the girls stiffened and glued their eyes to the TV screen, pretending that they had been watching the animated animals the entire time.

"Well, hello there," Dean began softly, crouching down in front of the girls so he wouldn't be towering over them. "Watchin' cartoons, huh?" He asked, smiling sightly. The girls just stared, and Patrice, the elder sister, looked a bit irritated at the obviousness of Dean's inquiry. Dean cleared his throat, deciding on a different tact, then continued. "So... I'm very sorry about what happened to your mom. I'm even sorrier that you saw what you did."

Marisol's lower lip quivered and her eyes misted, and Patrice, sensing her little sister's distress, wrapped a protective arm around the 7 year old and gave Dean a fierce scowl before firmly fixing her gazed back on the television.

 _Maybe I should have let Sam talk to the kids_ , Dean thought, glancing back and his brother and the grieving widower. Dean didn't know how else to handle the situation, or what else he could say that wouldn't just make things worse, so he plowed on. "Now, I know this probably isn't something you guys wanna discuss, especially with some stranger who just walked in your door, but I'd really like to talk to you."

Patrice and Marisol steadfastly ignored Dean, pretending that he wasn't there while they focused on the TV even more intently, with Marisol resting her head on her big sister's shoulder. Dean could see he was losing ground with the girls, but since he already seemed to have stuck his foot in his mouth, he saw no harm in continuing. It wasn't like he could make it any worse than he already had.

Dean took another look behind him at Sam and Hector, who were still in deep conversation on the other side of the suite before pressing on. "Alright, well, I can see that I've pissed you off, but I'm just gonna keep talking because I need your help. See, me and my partner over there are trying to find out who or what did that to your mom. And since you were the first ones there, I was hoping you could tell me anything that might help."

Patrice, whose posture and demeanor had become stiff and unyielding before, started to relax a bit. Maybe it was because Dean was speaking like an actual person and no longer talking to her like she was going to break. She spared him a glance before tightening her grip on her sister's shoulders and returned her attention to the television.

Dean, sensing he was on the right track, kept going. "I know you wanna protect your sister, Patrice. I get that. I've got a little brother and my dad always told me that it was my job to look after him, and I did. I would have killed anyone who tried to hurt Sammy. And I know that if you could, you'd bash me right over the head for upsetting Marisol right now, wouldn't you?" Dean asked, allowing a smirk to tug on the corner of his mouth, thinking about a lump forming on his head like on the cartoons that the girls were watching.

Marisol giggled and that seemed to relax her big sister a bit more. He now had both girls' full attention. With that encouragement, and with both sets of eyes planted firmly on him, Dean continued to press on.

"Can either of you tell me if you saw something weird?" Dean asked, then tentatively added, "Other than... you know." When neither of them answered he elaborated. "Like were there any flickering lights? Black smoke? Weird smells? Another person maybe?"

The girls' eyes lit up on the last one and Dean latched on to that signal. "You saw someone?"

Both girls nodded.

"Can you tell me what they looked like? Was it a man or a woman? Was there anything strange about them?"

"It was two boys." Marisol said, her voice low and timid.

"Twins, and they were really pale." Patrice added.

"Really?" Dean said, his brow furrowing slightly. "Can you tell me anything else? Where'd they go?"

The girls remained silent. Patrice hunched her shoulders and Marisol shifted uncomfortably in the seat.

"Look, you can tell me. Even if it seems like you just imagined it. Or if it seems like it couldn't have really happened. Anything at all. I promise I'll believe you."

The girls glanced at each other before looking back at Dean. Marisol was the one to break the silence once again. "The just disappeared."

"Disappeared?" Dean prompted.

"Yeah," this time it was Patrice. "It was like... they flickered. Like when the TV messes up," she said, gesturing to the TV in front of them.

Dean looked at the television and it looked clear. But he'd spent enough time in motel rooms watching crumby TVs to know that reception sometimes comes and goes. He decided to just take their word for it. Based on their description, he knew what they were dealing with.

"Alright guys, that _really_ helped," Dean said with sincerity. "And thanks for not bashin' me in the head." Dean winked at the girls, which elicited a few giggles. He looked behind him at Sam and Hector, who looked like they were wrapping things up as well.

Turning back to the girls he said, "Well, it looks like my partner's 'bout done with your dad. So we're gonna get going soon, alright?" The girls both nodded, still smiling slightly, and Dean stood up to head back over to Sam and Hector.

Sam looked up as Dean approached and stood saying, "Thank you very much, Mr. Martinez, and I'm sorry again for your loss."

Hector nodded, his eyes puffier than when Sam and Dean first arrived. "Just get the bastard that did this," Hector demanded while standing. "You get him and make him suffer!" There was a steeliness beneath the puff in his eyes.

"Damn right," Dean said. Then he grabbed Hector by the shoulder so the man would look at him. Once their eyes met, Dean said, "We'll find him. In the meantime, you take care of those girls. Got me? They're gonna need you to be strong. And," Dean hesitated, not sure how the grieving man would take the next part. "And you can't take care of your girls, if ya don't take care of yourself. Got me?"

Hector seemed to bristle a bit. His shoulders tensed slightly before relaxing again. He gave a curt nod and held himself a bit straighter. He then led Dean and Sam to the door. The girls waved at Dean on the way out and he waved back. Once the door was closed, Sam and Dean heard Hector asking his daughters to help him clean up. The two headed back downstairs and through the lobby, nodding politely at the clerk who had finally stopped abusing his poor keyboard. They walked out the door and into the parking lot towards the car.

"Alright," Dean said once they were back in the Impala with some privacy, "I think I know what we're up against."

Sam looked surprised. "Really?" he asked. "Because I didn't get much out of Hector. Just the usual 'my wife was amazing and no one would want to hurt her' speech. And he lost it a bit while we were talking," Sam said, remembering having to comfort the grieving man. "So, what could the girls have told you?"

"Well, they let me know that we're after not one, but _two_ seriously pissed off poltergeists!"

"Really? Poltergeists?" Sam asked. "You sure?"

"Yeah. From the description the girls gave me, I'm positive. They saw two twin boys. They were really pale, and they flickered out and disappeared." Dean recounted as he pulled Baby out of her parking space, heading back to the road.

"Wow," Sam said with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Well, let's head back to the room and I can try to do some digging online and see if any twins died around here."

Once Dean pulled in to the motel parking lot, the two of them hopped out of the car and started heading to their motel room. Dean noticed that the truck was back, meaning its driver must be in her room. He tried to just push it out of his mind but, against his will, his eyes strayed to her door. That's when he stopped in his tracks, almost causing Sam to plow into him.

"Dude, what the hell?" Sam began to protest, but Dean silenced him with a hard look.

Sam watched as Dean pulled his gun from the back of his waistband and gave him the signal that meant _Look there._ Following Dean's lead, Sam drew his own gun and they both headed to the woman's door that had been left slightly ajar. As they approached, Sam got a better look at what Dean had meant.

There was a bloody handprint smeared on the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Reaching the door, Dean gently pushed it open and rushed inside, gun raised, with Sam close behind. The room was dim, the only light coming from the sun streaming in through the open door. The lights were out and the curtains were drawn. Sam reached behind himself and hit the light switch by the door, illuminating the room.

The first thing Dean and Sam saw was the barrel of another gun, pointed straight at them. The woman was huddled in a corner, bleeding and breathing raggedly; her left arm clutched against her abdomen. Despite her condition, she held the gun steady, her eyes like steel.

"Who the hell are you, and what do you want?" Her demand came out all iron and grit, with only the slightest hint of a tremor, most likely from the pain.

Dean assessed the situation: there was a woman on the floor, bloody and probably scared, with two strange men pointing guns at her. If the situation were reversed, he probably would have shot the intruders by now. So he had to give her credit for not blasting them away as soon as she saw them. Dean took his left hand from the butt of his gun and raised it in the air in surrender. Using his right hand he placed the gun on the ground.

Sam looked at Dean dubiously, but followed his brother's lead and placed his weapon down as well, mimicking the older hunter's actions, also keeping his hands in the air.

"Alright," Dean said, hands still in the air, "alright. We're not gonna hurt you, okay? I'm Dean," he said pointing at himself before motioning towards his brother behind him. "That there is my brother Sam. We saw the blood on your door and thought you might need some help." Dean made sure to speak low and calmly, treating the woman like a frightened and injured animal that he didn't want to scare away. Plus, injured animals have been known to lash out when they are frightened, and he didn't want that.

At the mention of their names, recognition flashed across the woman's face. "Sam and Dean?" She said incredulously. "Winchester?" She asked.

The brothers spared a glance at each other before turning back and answering, "Yeah," unanimously.

"You're hunters," she breathed out in disbelief and just a bit of relief. She finally lowered her weapon and warily regarded the two men in front of her. Sam and Dean cautiously lowered their hands and endured the scrutiny. After a few moments the woman said, "Alright. Well, thanks for checking in. You can leave now."

Dumbfounded, Dean and Sam just stared at her for a few moments before Dean found his voice and said, "What?"

"I'm fine. Thank you. Leave now!"

This time Sam spoke before Dean could lose his patience. "Are you sure, miss? 'Cause you don't _look_ fine."

"Well I _am_!" Sam and Dean _might_ have believed her, if her body hadn't chosen that particular moment to give her a new spasm of pain, causing her to squeeze her eyes shut and hiss in pain.

Ignoring the woman's protests, the brothers both rushed to her side, after pushing the door closed, and helped her onto her feet before they gingerly settled her onto the single bed. Halfway through the process, she gave up trying to fend them off and begrudgingly accepted their help.

"I think you might need to go to a hospital," Sam suggested. "You've lost a lot of blood." Sam had taken in her torn, blood-soaked clothes and the puddle of blood that they had just lifted her out of on the floor.

"No! No hospitals!" she nearly shouted out the order, causing a fresh wave of pain to shoot through her body.

Sam and Dean eyed each other warily before Sam said, "Okay. No hospitals." The brothers could certainly understand the woman's trepidation about seeking medical help. How many times had the Winchesters chosen to forgo professional help in favor of their own rudimentary skills? Turing to Dean Sam said, "Stay here a minute. I'll go get the first aid kit."

Sam turned to the door, but then the woman said, "No, wait. I have one. It's over there." She pointed to a medium-sized, leather bag that was lying on the floor, about a foot from the pool of blood. It looked like an old-fashioned doctor's bag that they used to make house calls with. Dean was closer to it, and he was also better at first aid than his little brother, so he grabbed the bag and looked inside.

The contents put the Winchesters' little med kit to shame. Where theirs only had two needles, some thread, gauze and some painkillers, this woman's looked like a she had robbed a hospital and a pharmacy in one go. It contained the usual gauze, needles and thread; but there were also syringes, vials of antiseptic, penicillin, anesthesia, painkillers, tranquilizers of every size, strength and color, a few small bottles of whiskey, some vodka, and even a few vials of sodium amytal, among other things.

After taking a moment to admire the woman's preparedness, he started to move closer to her, but then froze when he made the realization that he was most likely going to have to help her out of her clothes in order to get at her wounds; and if she had put up that much of a fight just for being helped off of the floor, then he could only imagine the stink she was going to make for having to disrobe in front of two strange men.

He wanted to help her, but not if it meant getting his head ripped off by the frightening little woman, who somehow managed to look intimidating, even in her current state. He was getting ready to tell Sam to take a walk, so that she would only have to get undressed in front of one of them, but he was interrupted.

Sensing the man's trepidation, the woman rolled her eyes and said, "Look, I've already resigned myself to accepting your help. But if you're having second thoughts, then I can do this myself. I was just getting ready to before you boys barged in. I _am_ fully capable," She finished with a huff.

"Oh, I'm sure you are. But I won't feel right just leaving you here bleeding," Dean shot back.

"Okay. So stop being so damn _bashful_ and get over here!"

So, with a little bit of work, Dean helped her out of her clothes, trying hard to keep his face from getting too red. She wasn't completely naked. Her bra was left in place, as were her underwear, though both were torn in various places from whatever it was that attacked her. And Sam had grabbed a towel from the bathroom to cover her crotch, even though she still had on her underwear and her jeans were only pulled down to her thighs, just far enough to expose the worst of her injuries.

With that done, Dean set about administering the first aid. He started with the large gash that went from her belly button and diagonally down to the midway point of her left thigh. While he worked to clean and stitch the cut, he decided to use the time to ask her a few questions, if only to help get her mind off of the pain, since she had refused the use of painkillers and local anesthetic, stating that those were to be saved for when she had to patch up someone _else_. She did however down a small, 8oz bottle of Jack Daniels like a champ.

"So, uh, we never got your name," Dean stated.

"That's 'cause I never gave it," she said, a bit snarkily. After a moment she said, "Milah."

"Alright, Milah. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Milah said around a painful gasp.

Dean finished with the first gash, then helped her pull up her pants before moving on to the next ones. As he did, he remembered something she said earlier. "So, you recognized me and Sam as hunters earlier. Does that mean you're also a-"

"A hunter? Yeah. And you two are basically famous. You've died so many times people are starting to think you're immortal or something. Or maybe you guys made some demon deal to keep the two of you alive." She chuckled at her own observation.

Sam and Dean exchanged a knowing look, but didn't say anything. Milah noticed the look, but let it go. If they made some sort of deal with a demon, it was none of her business.

Dean started putting pieces together. If she was a hunter, then he had to know if she was the one taking his all of his hunts. So he asked, "What were you hunting here?"

"Poltergeists," Milah answered simply.

Dean sighed. That's all the proof he needed to know that she was indeed the culprit. What were the odds that _another_ hunter would be in the _same_ town hunting a _different_ set of poltergeists? He was still a little pissed, but seeing how injured she was, he decided to let it go. Besides, he held a tiny sadistic pleasure in knowing that she was hurt. Serves her right for poaching his cases. He kept silent and continued his ministrations.

Sam, on the other hand, had gotten curious. "So, did you take down a vamp nest in Nebraska not too long ago?"

Looking at Sam with a mild air of suspicion, she thought a moment before answering honestly, "Yeah..."

"What about a wendigo in Connecticut?" Sam pressed.

Still confused, Milah said, "No. That wasn't me."

Dean, curiosity now fully piqued, joined the conversation. "Well who did _that_ one then?"

Milah looked like she wasn't sure if she should answer, but after a few moments she made the decision. "That was a cousin of mine." After a beat she added, "Hunting is sort of a family business."

At that, both Sam and Dean gave a short chuckle. Then Sam said, "Yeah. We know a bit about that particular family affair." Milah just gave a knowing nod in response.

"Why do you ask?" Milah wanted to know.

"Well," Sam said, looking at Dean. When all Dean did was shrug, Sam took that as a sign that his brother didn't care if she was told. "For the past few weeks, we've been going to different towns looking for cases, but every time we got there, the case was already solved: monsters killed, victims released, et cetera."

"Really?" Milah said with genuine surprise.

"Yeah. Dean was under the impression that someone was deliberately poaching our hunts," Sam mentioned with a chuckle.

Dean rolled his eyes, but for the most part he kept his focus on the task at hand.

Milah chuckled back as gently as she could without jostling her wounds. "Well, I don't think anyone knew about it. I know _I_ didn't."

After a few moments there was a lull in the conversation and, wanting to change the topic, Dean said, "So the poltergeists did this to you? The little boys?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. They were buried together in a mausoleum. Their father was away a lot and their mother was very neglectful. She left them alone a lot and they actually wound up starving to death. I think that's why they killed Sasha Martinez. Both of the parents worked, so the girls were by themselves for a few hours every day after school. They would get themselves a snack and wait for their mom to get back – she would get home before Hector. The kids were perfectly safe. They weren't in any danger of starvation or anything. But the spirits saw two kids, alone, and just kinda lost it. Even though there was nothing to indicated that Sasha was a danger to her children. I mean, there are lots of latchkey kids that are perfectly fine, but no one ever said the dead were the most logical sort."

She took a moment to breath before continuing. "Anyway. Their father got home and found out what his wife had done to their boys, and bashed her head in with a hammer, before taking his own life. Some relatives from the father's side found out paid for the kids' and father's burials, but not the mother's. The county cremate her. So, I found the mausoleum the boys were buried in, but as soon as I got the stone slabs off their graves, they discovered me and attacked. I was barley able to get their bones salted and burned in time before they killed me. I'm just lucky I didn't end up like Sasha."

"Yeah. _Really_ lucky," Sam commented. Dean grunted in agreement.

A while later, Dean had finished dressing her most serious wounds. She had a laceration on her right shoulder that had exposed the bone. There was the gash on her lower abdomen/upper thigh. A cut that went from her right side to the middle of her back. Then there were other minor scrapes and cuts that didn't need more that some antibiotics. Dean had also done what he could to remove as much of the blood as possible.

"Well, that should just about do it," Dean said, once he was satisfied with his handiwork.

Milah painfully sat upright and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. After she gained some semblance of balance, she looked at Dean and Sam in turn and said, "Thanks." And she meant it. It was nice of them to help her, when they really didn't need to. But she didn't say that. She still needed to keep her gruff exterior up. It was her best defense, after all.

"No problem," Dean said.

"Yeah. Any time," replied Sam. He felt a little awkward, since all he really did was hand over a towel and ask some questions, but Milah still seemed thankful to him as well, regardless.

Milah regarded the floor for a moment before saying, "Hey, have either of you seen my phone? I set it next to me on the floor before you guys came in."

Sam and Dean searched the floor around where they found Milah in the corner next to the bed, but didn't find it. Then Sam looked under the bed and pulled it out triumphantly. It must have gotten kicked under there while they were helping her up.

"Thanks," she said, checking it expectantly.

"No problem," Sam said.

"So, um," Dean said brilliantly, suddenly unsure what to do. Since Milah had taken care of the poltergeist twins, and he had finished patching her up, it didn't seem like there was anything else to do; and she seemed tough enough to not need any further assistance. She wasn't even wincing in pain with each movement anymore. "If you're okay... I guess me and Sam should get out of your hair."

"Dean!" Sam said incredulously. He couldn't believe Dean would just leave so soon after sewing her up. It seemed kind of heartless. But Dean just didn't want to disrupt the woman's personal space any more that he needed to.

"What?" Dean said, knowing full well what Sam's problem was. But he knew how to get his brother the cooperate. "Well, I figured she might wanna get cleaned up a bit and change into some fresh clothes. And I'm sure she can manage _that_ on her own," Dean said. Then he added, "Unless you feel like she needs a hand..."

"I'm fine. Get out!" Milah said, not wanting that discussion to continue any further. It was making her uncomfortable, and she could tell they felt more or less the same way. Besides, she really could manage from here.

"You sure you're gonna be okay?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'll be fine." Milah said, waving them off with her good arm.

"Alright, well... I guess we can just come back in a few hours to check on you?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, we can do that," Dean added with a shrug, looking at Milah for confirmation.

"Whatever makes you feel better," Milah commented, nonchalantly.

"Okay," Dean said, backing to the door. "We'll see you in a few-"

Dean was suddenly cut off when the door was busted open with a loud _bang._ Then Dean was being whacked on the head with the butt of a shotgun. There was a sharp, skull-splitting pain before he hit the ground with a thud. He heard a struggle, and in his blurred vision he saw Sam hitting the floor just a few feet from him. Milah was shouting something that he could quite make out. It didn't really matter though, because the next thing he knew was darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"STOP IT!" Milah was screaming. "STOP!" She kept shouting at the newcomers, trying to get them to listen to her. She had painfully stood up, trying to get their attention, bracing herself against a wall. When Dean patched her up, she momentarily felt better, but now the pain was coming back. She was starting to regret refusing the painkillers.

The attackers finally paid attention to Milah, but by the time they halted their onslaught, Dean and Sam were already out for the count.

"What the _hell_ , you guys?!" Milah demanded incredulously.

The man and woman looked at each other, then back at Milah. "What?" The man asked, confusion written on his face.

Milah had shifted her weight on the wall so that her back was resting against it, but was still mindful of her injuries. She just shot a spine-tingling glare at the two and said nothing.

"Well," the woman began, pushing the door and letting it swing shut behind her. "You sent us that message saying you were hurt. So we got here ASAP, and saw _these_ guys covered in your blood..." She gestured to Sam and Dean, still prone on the floor. "So we took 'em out."

"All my message said was that I'd gotten sliced up a bit and I'd be late getting back. You didn't have to come in like the cavalry," Milah mumbled under her breath, not really intending for them to hear. They still heard her, but didn't say anything. They were well acquainted with the younger woman's surly temper.

She looked down at the Winchesters. They did in fact have some of Milah's blood splattered on their hands and shirts from when they helped her off the floor, and Dean had a bit more on him that Sam did; but Milah wouldn't say they were _covered_ in her blood. Shaking her head with a heavy sigh, Milah sat back down on the bed. She tossed two of the pillows off and said, "Here. Put these under their heads."

The two did as they were told, placing their shotguns on the edge of the bed before moving towards the unconscious men. Once the pillows were placed under their heads, the man said, "So who are these guys?" frowning slightly. "They're no kin to us."

"Those guys are Sam and Dean Winchester. They saw the blood on the door and decided to help me. Dean sewed me up."

"Winchesters?! Really?" The woman said in wonder. "What are the odds?"

"These guys are _legends_!" Said the man, excitement painting his face. Then realization hit him and his excitement was replaced by shock. "Holy hell... We just attacked Sam and Dean Winchester!"

"Yup," Milah said with a chuckle. "Hopefully they don't try to kill you when they wake up. As a matter of fact, why don't you get their guns and put them out of reach?" She pointed to the floor where the brothers had placed their guns earlier.

The woman grabbed the brothers' weapons and placed them on a table on the other side of the room. They would get their guns back as soon as it was certain they wouldn't try reaching them to shooting at anyone.

"Alright," Milah said, standing back up. The man moved to help her, but she waved him off. "I'm going to go get cleaned up a bit. I'll just be a few minutes." She hobbled over to one of her duffle bags, and pulled out some fresh clothes before heading back to the bathroom to wash up and get changed. "You guys watch these two til I get back."

The man and woman agreed, picking up their guns from the edge of the bed and temporarily keeping watch over their new charges.

* * *

Dean awoke to pain. His head was killing him and he wasn't sure why. He felt like he should be anxious about something... no _pissed_ about something, but he couldn't put his finger on what. He was awake, but he kept his eyes closed, trying to remember what happened before he opened them. He was aware of other people in the room. He heard the unfamiliar voices of a man and a woman, talking quietly.

Cautiously cracking open one of his eyes, he risked taking a peek at the room's other occupants. Once he did, he remembered that he and Sammy were attacked after helping Milah. Now he remembered why he was supposed to be pissed. Then, upon further inspection of the room, concern began to lace its way in to his anger. He didn't see Milah anywhere. What had those two done to her? He subtly tried reaching for his gun, but silently cursed when he remembered that he hadn't gotten it off the floor by the door.

"If you're looking for your gun, it's on the other side of the room," the woman said when she noticed Dean's movements.

Since the jig was up, Dean didn't see any point in pretending he was still knocked out. So he sat up to get a better view of his assailants. The woman was white, with short, blonde hair in a pixie cut. She was wearing a black, leather jacket, black t-shirt, jeans and boots. She had a ruby-studded nose ring in her left nostril and tiny hoops traveling down the ridge of her left ear. The man was Hispanic, wearing a navy blue t-shirt, jeans and gym shoes. His forearms were covered in tattoos, and a few could be seen peaking out of the collar of his shirt.

Shortly after Dean sat up, Sam opened his eyes and sat up as well. Like Dean, he had been trying to assess the situation before letting his consciousness be known. Now both the Winchester brothers shot daggers at the two intruders from their positions on the floor.

"Well, since you're awake, there's no since in you stayin' on the floor. May as well get up." The man said. The two of them went over to Sam and Dean to try and help them off the floor, but the brothers denied the help and picked themselves up unassisted.

"So Pixie, Muscles," Dean said, nodding to each of them in turn, "you wanna tell us what the hell is going on?" Usually after being knocked unconscious, the brothers would wake to find themselves tied up in some way or fashion, but not this time. Not only that, but there had been pillows under their heads. _Pillows_! Because of that, Dean decided to let them explain themselves before deciding if he needed to kick ass.

"Also, where's Milah?" Sam added.

Just then, Milah emerged from the bathroom, clean and wearing fresh clothes. In fact, her outfit was not too dissimilar from the other woman's; expect Milah wasn't wearing a tight leather jacket and her t-shirt had a dull, grey lightning bold on in.

"Hey, you're awake!" Milah exclaimed upon seeing Sam and Dean.

"Yeah. And we haven't had time for pleasantries yet, so..." Dean said sarcastically.

Milah rolled her eyes and gave introductions. "These are my cousins Danny and Regina. And they already know who you guys are so..." She limped over to the bed and gingerly sat back down, propping up her feet and resting her back against the headboard. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, exhaling a long breath. She had done her job of introductions, now she was going to sit back and let her cousins dig themselves out of the hole they dug themselves into by attacking the friggin' _Winchesters_.

When Milah didn't seem keen on giving any more information than the names of the two newcomers, Dean and Sam turned their attention to Danny and Regina. Sam raised his eyebrows expectantly and Dean spread his arms out as if to say _Well_ _?_

"Uh," Danny began. "Well sorry about that. We didn't know you were friends. We wouldn't have beat you up if we'd have known you were the ones who patched her up."

"You didn't _beat us up!"_ Dean said, indignantly. "You... surprised us!"

"Uh-huh. Sure," retorted Regina. "Look, we thought you were a threat to our baby cousin, so we took you down. If you still have beef with us, then we can have it out here and now." Regina crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for her challenge to be met.

From the bed, Milah scoffed and mumbled something under her breath about _not a damn baby_ , but didn't even open her eyes or acknowledge anything else that was going on in the room, but clearly she was listening.

Danny and Regina ignored their cousin and kept their attention on Sam and Dean. After a few moments, the brothers seemed to relax deciding that a fight wasn't what they wanted.

Dean begrudgingly said, "I guess if Sammy were in trouble I'd do the same." He felt like he was letting a whole lot slide today, and it was starting to make him a little uneasy.

Danny looked the two up and down and, after coming to the conclusion that they could be trusted with firearms, he cautiously handed them back their guns. The brothers put their weapons back in the waistbands of their pants, and the cousins sat their shotguns back down on the bed, in a sign of good faith.

"So," Danny said, clapping his hands once and rubbing them together, suddenly having all the intimidation of a big teddy bear. "We're gonna take Milah back home with us, and I think you two should come with us."

Everyone in the room, except for Regina, looked at Danny, completely dumbstruck. Even Milah decided to look up from the bed to glare at her cousin, who had _clearly_ lost his damn mind. However, Regina seemed to have lost interest when it was apparent that there wouldn't be a fight. After setting down her gun, she was just leaned against the dresser and started picking something out of her torn fingernails.

"Okay," Milah said, "I have two problems with that. One," she raised a single finger to emphasize her point, "I hadn't planned on going back home. And two," she raised a second finger, "even if I _had_ planned on it, what makes you think it's a good idea to bring two strange _hunters_ back to base?"

Dean and Sam registered the way she said 'hunters'. Weren't _they_ all hunters as well? Milah had also said hunting was a family business. So this 'base' must be crawling with hunters. What was so wrong with the two of them going?

"Well, I mean," Danny started, suddenly unsure. "I really don't think these guys'll be a problem. They're the _Winchesters_! Plus, I just thought it would be nice to bring back the guys who saved your life so we could _all_ thank them properly."

Milah scoffed and said, "They didn't exactly _save_ my life. They just patched me up. I could have managed on my own!" She crossed her arms as best she could without straining her stitches, her pride a bit more wounded than anything else.

"Yeah, yeah. We all know you're tough. There's no shame in accepting help sometimes." Regina had finally looked up from her task to admonish her cousin. Milah just threw a heated glare at the other woman but didn't say anything.

Regina, picking up on her cousin's hostility, decided to fan the flames. She said, "I agree. I think they should come with us!" She was suddenly all smiles and perkiness. Regina didn't _really_ think it was a good idea, but she liked irritating her younger cousin. And besides, the offer was already on the table. It's not like anything she said or did would change the outcome. Either the Winchester brothers came or they didn't.

"Really, Regina?" Milah said incredulously, picking up on her cousin's favorite pastime of being an ass.

"Look," Dean said before things could escalate any further, "not that I'm not tickled pink by the idea, but I think we're gonna pass. We have to find another hunt. So thanks, but no. Come on Sammy." Dean left the room without waiting to see if his brother followed.

Danny, looking a little put out, turned imploringly to Sam. "Just gimme a minute," Sam said to Danny before following Dean out the door. Once outside he spotted Dean who had already reached their own room and was pushing the door open. "Hey Dean, wait a minute!" he called, but Dean ignored him.

Sam went to the door and stepped into the room, swinging the door closed behind him. Dean had grabbed one of the duffle bags and was fervently stuffing clothes into it, preparing to leave.

"Dean-"

"We're not goin', Sammy!"

"Why not?"

"Really?" Dean said, putting down the bag and turning to look at Sam. "You _really_ gotta ask me that?"

"Well, yeah. Dean, what's going on?" Sam was starting to get frustrated with his brother.

"What's going on, Sam, is that _they_ are hunters!" He said, nearly shouting, pointing at the wall as if he could see straight through the rooms separating them from the cousins.

"Well, Dean, so are we. What's your point?"

"My _point_ is that we haven't had the best track record when it comes to other hunters," Dean said, starting to rant. "How about the Campbells, huh? I know you don't remember them since you got your soul back, but Sammy, they were freakin' _nuts_! And did you forget about those asshats who hunted you and tied you up after that lucky rabbit's foot gave you bad luck? Or those other hunters who _actually_ killed us in our own beds? Or GORDON, that whack job?!" Dean shouted the name, gesturing wildly. He finished his short rant, waiting for his brother to respond.

Sam had waited patiently for Dean to say what he had to, and when he finally spoke, it was softly and with understanding of his brother's position. "Okay Dean. But do you remember Bobby? Or Ellen? Jo? How about _Dad_?" Sam knew he would strike a cord with that one, and he saw Dean tense up a bit at the mention of their father. He paused a moment to let Dean digest what he was saying before continuing. "They were all hunters, Dean. And they were great people. They were _family_."

Sam and Dean had still been on opposite sides of the room, but now Sam moved closer to his brother so that he could better look the elder hunter in the eyes. "I really think we should at least give these guys a chance. It would be good to network with some other hunters. Maybe even have someone to call on for help with particularly tough cases." Dean still looked unsure, so Sam used the best item in his arsenal of defenses, knowing it would work like a charm. "Plus, if we're able to keep in touch with these guys, it could help us avoid going after the same hunts."

That one did it. Dean was really getting fed up with going after some creature only to find out he was too late to the party. He had been tense, knowing that he was going to have to fight his brother all day on the issue, but he relaxed a bit and relented. "Alright!" He said grumpily. "But if things start to smell even the _slightest_ bit fishy, we're outta there!"

"Alright!" Sam said. He clapped his brother on the shoulder before turning to head back out the door. "I'll let 'em know we're coming. You finish packing, I'll be back in a minute."

"You know, we still have Cas!" Dean called after Sam.

"Cas is an angel, Dean. He can't always help us. He has heaven stuff to deal with," Sam countered.

Sam rushed out the door before Dean could say anything else, excited at the prospect of meeting an _entire family_ of new hunters. As he neared Milah's door, which he had left ajar in his haste to reach Dean, he slowed down when he heard the cousins speaking in low tones. He knew he probably shouldn't eavesdrop, but the urgency in their voices made him pause, and his hunter's curiosity made him listen.

"... 'cause they're gonna find out!" That was Milah's voice.

"Not if we call ahead and let 'em know we're bringin' guests. Everyone'll be on their best behavior then," Danny said.

"You really stepped in it this time, Danny." Regina said, though she still sounded bored.

"No I didn't!" Danny sounded defensive, but he kept his voice down.

"Okay, the _family_ might be on their best behavior, and I mean _might_ , but what about our _friends_?" Milah demanded. "Plus, what about Sone? She's supposed to be coming back in just a couple of days. What if they see her Arrival? What if they actually see _Sone_?"

"Crap! I forgot about _that_! What the hell have you done, Danny?" Regina no longer sounded bored. She actually sounded on the verge of panic.

"We'll just keep 'em away from the cemetery when she comes back."

"What about after? She's gonna need time to recover. Are we just gonna keep them out of the house too?" Milah wanted to know.

Danny paused, seemingly bested by his cousins' logic. After a few moments he heaved a sigh, relenting. "Damn. I guess you're right." Another pause. "We can just tell 'em not to come."

"No, we can't do that," Milah said quickly. "If we do, then they would just get suspicious and follow us anyway."

"It seemed like Dean didn't really wanna go. Hopefully he can talk Sam out of it," Regina said, resignedly.

The cousins didn't seem to want to continue their conversation, and Sam figured he couldn't just stand outside the door forever. So he backed up a few paces, then ran back to the room so that he could barge in quickly, as if he hadn't been eavesdropping moments before.

"Dean agreed," he announced happily. "We'll come."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Sam had expected some dissent from them. Maybe Milah saying that they shouldn't come, or even Danny simply looking around nervously. _Something_ to indicate that they didn't really want the brothers to come. Instead he got a number of different reactions.

Milah said, "Whatever," and began gently scooting off the bed.

Danny was excited, or at least he _acted_ excited; Sam couldn't tell which. Danny let out a small whoop, pumping his fist in the air, saying, "Alright! The Kings and the Winchesters. Two unstoppable forces, baby. Yeah!"

Regina just rolled her eyes and moved to grab some of Milah's bags. "I'll put this stuff in your truck. Where's your keys? I'm driving."

"You are _not_ driving _my_ truck. I can drive myself!" Milah protested, but Regina ignored her. She found Milah's keys by the TV, swiped them up and bounded out the door. "Regina! You're _not_ driving my baby!" She shouted, trying to follow her cousin out the door, but she was quickly halted by Danny.

"Milah, calm down. Reggie won't destroy your truck, and you're too injured to drive yourself."

"I'm _perfectly_ capable of-"

"I _know_ you're capable, Milah," Danny interrupted. "Just let us help you, okay? There's no shame in it."

Milah's brown cheeks deepened with a slight blush. She still wasn't happy about the arrangement, and didn't seem to want to be placated, but she begrudgingly assented with a huff and relaxed infinitesimally. Danny grabbed her remaining bags, then Milah let him lead her out of the room.

Sam followed behind them, watching as Danny and Regina loaded the bags into the bed and then helped Milah into the cab of the pickup. As he watched, he wondered what secrets the family held. What was this Arrival that they were talking about? He wanted to know what they were keeping from him and Dean. They had seemed pretty excited to meet the brothers, so why the sudden secrecy?

As a hunter, Sam had a natural curiosity, and as much as he wanted to figure it out, he couldn't let Dean know that he was investigating anything. If his brother found out that there was _already_ something fishy going on, he'd pull the plug on the trip and they'd never find out what was going on with the King family. And since they didn't really want the brothers at the base, Sam was certain he would figure it all out once they actually got there.

"Oh, hey," Sam said, suddenly remembering Dean was still packing, "I need to help Dean finish with the packing."

Danny and Regina had already gotten their disgruntled cousin into the passenger seat of the Ram. Danny turned to Sam and said, "Alright. We'll be out here when you're ready." Danny then climbed into the driver seat of a black SUV that was a few spaces from Milah's pickup, while Regina got into the driver seat of the Ram.

Sam bounded back to his and Dean's room, where his brother had already gotten all of his own things packed and was coming outside to toss the bags in to the Impala. Sam side-skirted his brother and dashed into the room to pack up his own things in record time. Once done, he dumped his bags into the trunk with Dean's and climbed into the passenger seat next to his waiting brother. Once inside, he gave a thumbs up to the other drivers across the parking lot and they were off, Dean following a few car-lengths behind the pickup and the SUV. Off towards a family compound full of hunters and secrets.

* * *

Regina, who was driving the lead vehicle, set a punishing pace. They only stopped long enough to get gas and stopping just once to sleep for just a few hours before moving on. As a result, they all made it from Oregon to Iowa in less than a day and a half.

Sam had been pretty silent for the last couple of hours. At one of their gas stops, the brothers exchanged numbers with the cousins, and they had called the Winchesters a little while ago to let them know they were nearly to their family's compound. Getting so close to where they were headed was making Sam a little nervous. He was thinking that maybe he _should_ have told Dean that there was something going on with this family.

Sam had no idea what kind of surprises were in store for them once they reached their destination. He decided that he did need to say _something_ to Dean, but he still couldn't tell him _everything_. Just enough so that his brother wouldn't bolt at the first sign of trouble.

They were headed down County Road H20, in Chariton, Iowa. Just a few miles from the Kings' compound. If Sam was going to say something, it had to be now. But he was having a hard time broaching the subject. If Dean found out that he'd been lying to him, Dean was going to be pissed, and then he'd bail. Sam took a breath to say something, but then lost his nerve and let it out in a huff. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat; it had been a while since they last stopped, and he needed to stretch his legs.

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?" Dean demanded. He was getting tired of Sam fidgeting. Sam's nervousness was making Dean nervous, and Dean didn't like to be nervous! He could tell there was something going on in his little brother's mind, and he wanted to know what it was. Now.

Knowing he had no choice but to finally speak, Sam took another breath before answering. "It's about what you said back at the motel. About bailing if anything starts smelling fishy."

"Okaay..." Dean said. Suspicion beginning to creep in. "What about it?"

"Well, it's just-" Sam paused, looking for the right words that wouldn't give too much away. "Okay, _if_ something weird _does_ happen, I don't think we should bail right away."

"What are you talkin' about, Sammy?" Dean asked, suspicion deepening. What did Sam know that he wasn't saying?

"It's just- I mean- they're _hunters_. There's bound to be some weirdness associated with 'em, right?"

"Again, Sammy, what are you _talkin_ ' about? Do you know somethin' you're not tellin' me?"

"No, Dean!" Sam said, a bit too defensively. Lying was a part of their job, but lying to Dean felt unnatural. However, it was necessary at the moment. "I'm just saying, all hunters have a bit of... eccentricity circulating around them. I mean, look at _us_!" Sam said, gesturing to the two of them. "We started the _apocalypse_ – by accident, but still we _did_ start it. Plus I've had demon blood in me since I was a baby. We were both intended to be vessels of _angels._ You've been best friends with a vampire. We're both sort-of-friends with _Crowley_!"

"Whoa whoa whoa. We are _not_ ," Dean exclaimed defensively, slicing a hand through the air to emphasize the point, a look of mild disgust on his face, "friends with _Crowley_!"

"Whatever," Sam said, waving off Dean's protest. "My point is: we're not exactly squeaky clean ourselves. I'm just saying, other hunters – not to mention an entire _family_ of hunters - might have some dark secrets of their own. Just like us. So, if we're gonna network with these guys, I just think we should have an open mind, just in case there _is_ something weird about them. Okay?"

Dean was even more suspicious than ever now. Sam was hiding something, he just _knew_ it. But he decided to play along with whatever Sam was trying to pull, and just figure out what the big secret was later. He gave a huge sigh and paused for a moment, trying to sell it and make his weirdo little brother believe that he was relenting. Then he said, "Alright, Sammy. I'll have an open mind. But I'm tellin' ya," Dean warned, pointing a finger at Sam, "if crap goes down and we wind up having to fight our way out of a hunters' compound..." Dean trailed off, letting Sam's imagination do the intimidation for him.

"I get it, Dean. And thanks."

* * *

The King compound was a sprawling estate surrounded by a 20ft high iron fence, with armed guards posted at the gate. The Ram stopped - followed by the SUV and the Impala - and Regina popped her head out of the window to speak with the gatekeepers. One of them could be seen pointing back towards the Impala, questioningly. Regina nodded and said a few more words, none of which could be heard from the Impala. But the guards seemed satisfied with Regina's explanation, and they opened the gate to let the three vehicles through.

Once they passed through the gate, they slowly made their way up the long, winding driveway. Every now and then they would have to stop and let someone pass; either children playing or adults going about their daily business, and a few animals running around as well – mostly dogs. Every time, the passerby would wave to the inhabitants of the Ram and the SUV, but they would look upon the Impala with a mix of suspicion and apprehension, wary of the outsiders.

As some of the people waved, Sam got a quick glimpse at some of their wrists and he just happened to spot a similar mark on them: a black, star-shaped blemish below the bottom knuckle on their left thumbs. He wondered briefly if Danny, Milah and Regina bore similar marks. He hadn't paid attention before, but now that he knew what to look for, he would make it a point to seek it out the next chance he got. Maybe it had something to do with this family's secret, or secrets.

"Man, how big _is_ this place?" Dean asked, pulling Sam out of his reverie.

Sam pulled his attention away from the pedestrians and paid more attention to the actual estate. Indeed the place was quite expansive. Along with what Sam assumed were other members of this family, they also passed by plots of land that were being used to pen a few herds of animals and other plots being used for farming. Since it was October, they were in the middle of a harvest. Most of the adults and children they passed were carrying supplies, or loading harvested crops into vehicles for transport. There were also buildings scattered throughout. Some were barns or silos, others were houses of varying sizes. The estate seemed to be completely self-sustaining. They even had a bunch of solar panels littered across the property, and on the roofs of most of the buildings.

"I wonder how many people live here," Sam wondered out loud.

"No tellin'," Dean supplied.

After a while, they came upon a line of trees that bordered a clearing. The trees surrounded a mansion that stood stoic and imposing at the end of the road. The three drivers each pulled their respective vehicles up to the house, parking next to each other, before getting out.

As Regina and Danny helped Milah out of the truck, more people came spilling out of the mansion, surrounding the cousins. Others came from out of the woodwork, most of whom had followed the slow procession of cars as they made their way through the compound. They were a menagerie of skin tones and ethnicities: black, white, Hispanic and a mixture of all three. Sam and Dean wondered if they were _all_ related, or if many of them were just friends.

Sam and Dean stood off to the side, next to the Impala, awkwardly not knowing what to do. They watched as the horde of people engulfed their travel companions, exchanging hugs and slaps on the back. A few of them led Milah away, presumably to recuperate. It was a few minutes before anyone remembered that the brothers existed. It was Danny who reminded everyone.

"Oh, hey. Everyone, these guys are Sam and Dean Winchester. They're gonna be our guests for a few days. Greet them!"

Suddenly the horde was upon them. There were many hand shakes and hugs, and many of them were unable to believe they were in the presence of the Winchesters. _THE_ Winchesters! Amazing! The brothers, on the other hand, were getting a bit overwhelmed with all the attention. Dean was made particularly uncomfortable when an unknown hand groped his rear. "Whoa, whoa. Hey!" he shouted. He jumped and looked around, but was unable to find the owner of the offending appendage in the ever-shifting throng of Kings.

"Alright, guys, alright. Break it up!" An older gentleman, who looked to be in his early 70s came up and shooed away the group of people. They listened to the old-timer and dispersed in a moderately quick fashion. "Hey there! I'm Jerry," the old man said once he reached the brothers, taking first Dean's then Sam's hand in a crushing, iron-like grip, which was pretty impressive for a guy his age.

"Nice to meet you, Sir. I'm Sam and this is my brother Dean."

"Oh now, don't you go startin' with that 'sir' nonsense!" the old man warned. "Just call me Jerry." The man was elderly and nearly a foot shorter than Dean, but he had an air about him that commanded respect. So 'sir' just seemed like the natural thing to call him; but they didn't want to offend the man by calling him something that he didn't want to be called, so the brothers agreed to just call the man by his name.

"Well, then. Why don't you fellas grab your things and I'll show you where you'll be staying," Jerry said. He waited patiently for Dean and Sam to grab their stuff. When they had their bags in hand the old man started walking towards the mansion, with the Winchesters following close behind. "Regina called while you guys were on the road. She told us you were comin', so we have your rooms already made up."

"That's very kind. Thank you," Sam said.

"It's no trouble at all," Jerry said, waving it off.

Once inside the massive house, Jerry took the boys to their rooms. They were down a wide hallway on the second floor. The doors to each room were directly across the hall from each other, doors opened. Jerry let the boys pick which room they wanted, and Dean immediately bolted into the room on the left. Sam just shrugged, shaking his head, and went into the room on the right.

"I'll let you fellas get settled in. Come find us when you're ready." With that, Jerry left the brothers to get comfortable.

Sam waited a few minutes before going over to Dean's room. He crossed the hall and went inside to find Dean sprawled out on the bed, spread eagle. Sam suppressed a chuckle. "Hey, man. Making yourself at home?"

"Dude! This bed is like a figgin' marshmallow! And I've got my own bathroom!" Dean exclaimed, raising his head off the pillows and pointing to the adjoining room.

"Yeah, me too," Sam said. "This place is pretty awesome. I think I'd like to get a better look around for a little bit."

"Oh cool. I'll come with you." Dean started dislodging himself from the mattress to accompany his little brother.

"Naw, that's alright. I'll be fine. You stay here and fondle your mattress a bit more." Sam wanted to see if he could find out anything about this family on his own. If Dean knew that there was something weird about them, he'd most likely try to make them leave before Sam could solve the mystery.

"Suit yourself," Dean said before flopping back down on the bed with a satisfied groan. "This bed is better than the one I have back at the bunker."

"Well, enjoy yourself," Sam said, leaving his brother behind.

Before Sam was out of earshot, he heard Dean mutter to himself, "Wonder what the water pressure is like in the shower."

* * *

Sam took his time snooping around the mansion. He didn't want to rush and then accidentally run into one of the residents. He found three other vacant rooms, five that were occupied – he could tell by the presence of clothing and other personal items that the vacant rooms lacked – and three rooms that looked like offices. He snooped around the offices to look for anything of interest.

He did find lots of books on lore; there were more books on demons and hell than anything else, though there were countless tomes and other files on every creature imaginable. He also found a library that put the offices to shame in terms of available information on lore. He also came across a few wards, cleverly disguised as parts of the intricate paint jobs on many of the walls. That was pretty interesting, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary, since this was the home of an entire _army_ of hunters.

Sam was just getting ready to give up for now and head back to see if Dean was ready to meet back up with the family, when he heard noises coming from one of the offices that he had just checked. He peeked through the cracked door and saw Jerry, Danny and a redheaded woman stepping out of a hidden doorway in the wall. Sam mentally kicked himself for not even _thinking_ about looking for secret passages.

" _This_ is why we don't bring other hunters back to base!" Jerry was saying in a low and menacing voice.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Jerry," Danny was saying. "I wasn't thinkin'. I just thought you'd really want to meet 'em. You're always talkin' about 'em."

"That doesn't mean you invite the goddamned _Winchesters_ into our home! And now Sam's AWOL. We have our family to protect, dammit! And where the hell is Ramona, anyway?! I told her that when the Winchesters got here she was to keep an eye on them _at all times_ to keep 'em outta trouble!"

"Ramona was happy to see Regina again. She hadn't seen her sister in a long time. They got excited to-" the third person said. Sam didn't remember seeing her before, but she could have been in the throng of people that greeted them outside.

"I don't give a damn, Lolita," Jerry interrupted her. "Find your daughter and tell her she's supposed to be on duty! And get someone to find Sam! I like those boys. I _really_ don't wanna have to kill 'em if they find out too much."

"I can help you look for her Auntie Lolita," Danny said, apparently trying to get away from his uncle.

"Oh no! I need to have a word with you, boy," Jerry pointed a menacing finger at Danny. The big man seemed to shrink in on himself from the weight of his uncle's fury, but he remained where he was.

Lolita moved towards the door and Sam bolted away and down the hall before he could be discovered. He had to get back to Dean. He thought he was doing the right thing by keeping his brother in the dark, but now that their lives had been threatened, he didn't think he could keep it a secret any longer. He couldn't believe that nice old man had threatened to kill him and his brother. He _had_ to warn Dean.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sam quickly bounded back through the halls, careful to avoid any of the mansion's occupants, and burst into Dean's room. Luckily his brother was already dressed, having just gotten out of the shower and into some clean clothes.

"Dude, that water pressure is _awesome_ ," Dean said, jerking his thumb towards his bathroom.

"That's great, Dean. Listen-"

"Yeah. It might be as good as the showers back at the bunker."

"Dean! Will you shut up about the shower for one minute! I've gotta talk to you about something!" Sam whisper-shouted a bit frantically.

Sam's tone caught Dean's attention and he frowned. "What is it?"

"Dean, there's something weird about this family. I realized it back at the motel, but I didn't say anything 'cause I was hoping I could find out what it was. And if it wasn't too bad, then we could still have the contacts. But I think we need to get outta here!"

Dean was silent for a moment as he mulled over Sam's flurry of a confession. In the end, he took away one very important piece of information. "So, you've been lying to me this whole damn time?"

"Yeah. I lied," Sam admitted, a bit dejectedly.

"Dammit, Sammy! Haven't we learned better yet?" Dean demanded.

"I'm sorry Dean, but I-"

"Knock, knock," Sam was interrupted by a woman's voice accompanied by an actual knock on the door.

Dean and Sam exchanged uneasy glances before Dean moved to answer the door. On the other side there was a small woman who looked sort of like Regina, but her hair was longer and she was wearing brighter colors.

"Hi, I'm Ramona. I was just checking to see if you were okay. Do you need anything?"

"Hey, Ramona," Dean said, switching to flirtation mode. Chest still bare, he leaned against the door frame with one arm and reached out to take Ramona's hand with the other. "I am _just_ fine, now." Dean flashed her a winning smile and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb.

She gently dislodged her hand from Dean's grip, immune to his charm. She forced a smile and said, "Well, we'll be serving dinner soon, if you'd like to join us."

"Oh, that sounds good. We'll be there."

"We?" Ramona asked. She finally looked passed Dean and into the room at Sam. "Oh, there you are. We had gotten worried about you."

"Oh, uh," Sam started, caught slightly off guard. He didn't think anyone would admit to looking for him.

"Yeah. One of my cousins came to your rooms earlier to check on you guys. She heard the shower running in this room, so she didn't bother Dean while he was bathing. But when she went into your room, you were gone."

"Sorry about that," Sam started. "I was going to head back to the main area of the house to find Jerry, but I kind of got lost," he said sheepishly, managing to look a bit embarrassed at admitting he couldn't find his way around. "But then I found the library, and I was pretty impressed with the collection of lore you guys have. You have even more info on demons than we do in our _own_ library."

"Oh yes. Our family has been collecting info on all sorts of creatures for generations." Sam nodded and Dean looked lost, probably confused as to why his charms had no effect on the woman. When no one else seemed keen on talking, Ramona said, "Well, whenever you're ready. Just head on down."

"Thanks Ramona," Dean said before closing the door. Once it was closed and they were certain that Ramona hadn't stuck around in the hall, Sam ventured an apology.

"Dean, I-"

"Save it, Sam," Dean said, cutting Sam off before he could finish his thought. The two had moved closer together and were speaking in hushed tones, just in case their voices carried down the hall to unwelcome ears. "Ya know, I had a funny feeling you were keepin' somethin' from me when we had that little talk in the car. What exactly did you find out?"

Taking a deep breath, Sam explained how he overheard Milah, Regina and Danny talking in the motel. Then he explained what he had just heard in that office with the secret passage way, and also mentioned the mark he had seen on most of the wrists of the passerby.

"What kinda name is _Sone_?" Dean asked. "And did they say anything else about this arrival?"

"No. That's all I know."

"Well it isn't much, Sammy!" Dean said. "How are we gonna figure this out with that crap intel? Aren't you supposed to be Mr. Research?"

"Well I-" Sam began defensively before he paused, catching on to what Dean was saying. "Wait, you mean you wanna stay and figure it out?"

"If you'd have told me about this crap back at the motel I woulda pulled the plug on this little expedition of yours on day one. But now that you've gotten us into the mess – and there's some old _geezer_ threatening us – I think we don't really have a choice. Somethin' _is_ goin' on here. And we're gonna find out what!"

Sam was completely taken by surprise. This is not at all how he imagined this conversation going. He was grateful that Dean was with him on this and now at least his brother wasn't in the dark about the Kings' intentions towards the two of them. So Dean could keep his eyes open, and neither of them would be caught completely off guard in case of a sneak attack, if this weirdo family _did_ decide to take them down.

All Sam could say was, "Thanks, Dean."

"Yeah, well, save it," Dean said, heading for the door. "Let's get outta here before they get too suspicious."

Sam followed Dean out the bedroom door and into the hallway, but then ran smack into his brother's back. Dean had stopped in his tracks when he saw that Ramona was still there. She had moved down the hall a bit, but she was still there.

"Hey," she said. "I thought I would wait and help you get back. So you don't get lost again." She gave the type of smile that said the cat had caught the canary.

Dean suppressed a shutter and thanked her for her thoughtfulness. Ramona led the brothers back through the house and outside to the courtyard where dinner was to be served.

* * *

Hours later, Sam and Dean had stuffed themselves on the Kings' fine cuisine. It was the best meal that either of them had had in a long time. There was music and laughter and a huge bonfire to keep everyone warm; and a few of the children roasted marshmallows. Even if the family wanted to kill them, the brothers had to admit this family knew how to throw down.

After the meal, Sam and Dean wanted to look around a bit, to see if two sets of eyes could spot something out of the ordinary that Sam's one set may have missed in his preliminary search. However, their plans of espionage were foiled by Ramona: the woman stuck to them like glue.

"Is there anything else I can do for you boys?" Ramona asked after escorting Sam and Dean to their rooms. It was only about 10:45, but Jerry was adamant that everyone hit the hay.

"Uh... no. I'm good. Dean?" Sam answered before turning to his brother.

"I'm good too." Dean flashed Ramona his winning smile one more time, in the hopes of getting into her god graces, but to no avail. She did not look the slightest bit impressed.

"Well, let me know if you need anything. I'll just be right down the hall, and to the left." She pointed the way to her room, and they indeed saw another door just down the hall.

"Thank you," Sam said with a slight nod of his head. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Dean and Sam were momentarily confused when she did not immediately leave. She just stood their, stoically holding her hands behind her back, assuming an air of innocence, expectantly looking back and forth between the two. Finally, they realized she was waiting for them to enter their rooms before she retired for the night.

"Oh, uh. Right."

"Yeah, okay."

Sam and Dean awkwardly said their farewells before retreating to their respective rooms. Once their doors where closed, they each waited and listened as Ramona's footsteps retreated, then they heard her bedroom door opening and closing. They waited a few more minutes before they both opened their doors and Dean came out of his room, quickly closed his door and bolted across the hall and into Sam's room. Sam stepped aside to let him in before closing the door behind him.

"Finally!" Dean said as soon as he was in. "I thought she'd never leave us alone."

"Yeah. Jerry was pretty upset when he found out she wasn't watching us earlier. I guess she was trying to make up for it."

"Yeah, well. I think we're gonna have to make some sort of move tonight, while everyone else is asleep. If she's gonna be keepin' an eye on us like that during the day, then we'll never get to the bottom of this thing."

"Yeah, I agree. We need to decide on when we're gonna move out." Sam looked over at the clock on the nightside table. It read 10:54.

"How about now?"

"Well," Sam said, furrowing his brow, "how about in a few minutes. We need to give Ramona and the others a chance to fall asleep before we start sneaking around the house."

"Yeah. I guess you're right." Dean ran a hand over his face in a frustrated gesture.

"But once we do get outta here, I wanna start in that study I saw earlier. The one with the secret passage."

"Alright. Sounds like a plan." Dean flopped down on Sam's bed, rubbing his stomach. "But ya know, no matter how crazy this family seems, they make some damn good pie!"

* * *

A few minutes later, the brothers deemed it safe enough to venture out into the halls. They had to pass Ramona's room on the way, so they stopped and listened at her door before moving on. There was not a peep coming from the other side of the door, so she must have been sleeping. Quietly, they made their way through the house with Sam leading the way. Finally, they made it to the room with the secret passage. Now there was just the small matter of figuring out how to open it.

They silently got to work, Dean lifting nick-knacks and pulling the books on the shelf, while Sam ran his hands along the panels of the wall. Each of them looking for some sort of switch or lever or secret knob to open the passageway. After a minute, Sam's fingers brushed a small nodule between a couple of the panels, and a doorway opened with a small hiss. The brothers looked at each other briefly before silently and cautiously entering the passageway.

Once they cleared the threshold, the door closed behind them automatically. They each took a small flashlight out of their pockets so they could take in their surroundings. They first inspected the closed door, locating a simple lever on this side of it that would allow them to re-enter the study later on. They also located a light switch on the wall to their right, but silently agreed to leave it off. It wouldn't be a good idea to alert anyone that might be lurking at the end of the passage.

They were in a short hallway that led to a spiraling stone staircase on the left. Dean led the way and they made their way down and down. "Man, how deep does this thing go?" Dean asked quietly once they had been walking for a few minutes.

"Well, we won't know 'til we get to the bottom," Sam responded just as quietly.

It was a few more minutes before they finally reached the bottom of the stairwell. There was a long, wide tunnel at the bottom, with only one direction to go in, so that's where they went, their footsteps echoing slightly in the enclosed space. They alternated between shining their flashlights ahead of them to get a look at where they were going and pointing them back down at their feet so they wouldn't alert anyone that might be ahead of them. Eventually the tunnel began to slope upwards.

"Seems like we're finally reachin' the end of this thing," Dean said.

Sam remained quiet and just kept walking. Sure enough, they reached the end just a few minutes later. Sam checked his watch: it was 11:35. They hadn't seen or heard anyone, and he was hoping they were all in bed so he and Dean didn't get caught. The end of the tunnel led to a short ladder that was topped off by a hatch.

Dean climbed the ladder and opened the hatch a crack. Luckily it was well greased, so no creaky hinges could give away their presence. Cautiously peeking through the opening, Dean scoped out the surrounding area for a few moments. When he was satisfied that no one would witness them climbing out, he motioned for Sam to follow him and the two climbed out.

Dean carefully closed the hatch once Sam was through. Straightening up, he took in his surroundings. They were at the end of a path that led into the woods. "Alright. Let's see where _this_ goes." They both took out their guns from the waistbands of their pants, holding them beneath their flashlights as they walked along.

Sam followed closely behind Dean, periodically swinging around to look back, making sure no one would sneak up on them from the rear. They both looked from side to side, to ensure that nothing with teeth came out of the trees to rip them apart. They walked along the path at a brisk pace, until they started hearing noises up ahead.

They slowed their pace, straining to listen. They still couldn't quite make out what they were hearing, so they kept moving. They soon came to the end of the trees, and a few feet beyond the tree line was what looked like an entrance. The path continued, and on either side there were pillars made of stacked stones, with an intricately designed metal sign connecting the pillars at the top, with a Latin inscription woven into the metal bars.

 _Erit autem sanguis vobis dico_ _._

"I think it means... 'The blood will tell'?" Sam translated.

"Alright. Tell us _what_?" Dean asked incredulously.

"I have no idea, man. Let's just keep moving."

They passed between the pillars and beneath the sign connecting them. The brothers soon started passing large stones that were sticking out of the ground. Most of them were evenly spaced, but there were quite a few that seemed to be clustered, and a few beneath trees or next to well-manicured bushes. The path they were on began to splinter off, meandering through the space and between many of the stones.

Sam and Dean tried going as straight as they could, going further and further into the area. The moon was not yet full, but it was still bright enough to illuminate the area enough for them to see, making the use of flashlights unnecessary, so they put them away.

After seeing so many of the strange stones, Sam got curious, so he got closer to one, and upon further inspection of it, he said, "Are... are these gravestones?"

Dean came over to look at the stone that Sam was inspecting. It was shaped sort of like a pyramid that had been worn down, but there was a faded name and what looked like some dates inscribed in it. "Yeah, I think so. These are some _weird_ -looking grave markers."

"I think this might be their family cemetery. These things are probably just a family tradition or something."

"Yeah well, let's keep moving."

Sam nodded and they kept walking. Soon the noise they had been hearing earlier started getting exponentially louder. It sounded like music and... voices... some laughter. Were these people having a _party_ in the middle of a graveyard?

They finally spotted people about a hundred yards ahead of them. They got as close as they dared, and crouched down behind a couple of the gravestones and a smattering of bushes. Peeking over the stones and around the leafy branches, the boys were able to get a good look at what was going on, without being seen themselves.

Sam turned to Dean and said, "Didn't Jerry send everyone to bed?"

"Yeah. I'm guessin' that was just an act to get us out of the way. Everyone _pretended_ to go to bed, but then snuck out here when they thought we were down for the night. They probably had all this planned before we even _got_ here." Sam nodded in agreement and the two kept spying, trying to figure out why the Kings didn't want them at this particular family function.

It didn't take long for them to figure it out. Among the people, they noticed a few dogs roaming about. There was nothing out of the ordinary about that, in and of itself – they had seen quite a few dogs when they first drove onto the estate. The weird part came when they saw some of them changing into human form, and a few "humans" changing into dogs.

"Dean, skinwalkers!" Sam announced, his eyes going wide.

"Yeah, I see 'em," Dean breathed. "Check the two chicks standing by the punch bowl." He waited for Sam to locate them before saying, "I don't think that's punch!"

Sure enough the two women were talking and laughing, filling their cups and sipping through straws. But the liquid was definitely _not_ punch. It was blood. To top it off, a young man came over to them and started a conversation with them, all the while happily munching on a raw heart in between sentences. Them women didn't even bat an eye.

"What the _hell_ is goin' on around here?"

"I dunno, Dean"

"I mean, vamps, skinwalkers, and friggin' _werewolves_!" Dean watched as the young man with the heart popped the last piece in his mouth and chewed pleasurably, savoring the morsel before licking his fingers clean of the blood. "I think that last piece of pie is fightin' its way back up," Dean said, holding his stomach and gagging a bit.

"Hold it together, Dean," Sam warned.

Dean looked a little green around the edges, but he managed to keep his food down. "Yeah, m'good."

"Alright, everybody. It's almost time!"

Sam and Dean could clearly hear Jerry's voice booming across the open space. Everyone stopped talking, the music was turned off and all eyes were on Jerry. He was standing in front of a large mausoleum, its door wide open.

Once he was certain that he had everyone's undivided attention, Jerry continued. "In just a few moments we will be reunited with one of own. Just like always, once the Arrival has completed, we will need to give all of our love and support, and offer any comfort we can. Readjustment will take time."

Sam looked at his watch again: it was 11:58. Whatever this Arrival was must be happening at midnight. He looked over at Dean and pointed to his watch. Dean nodded, having come to the same conclusion. Sam remembered hearing Milah talking about an Arrival with Danny and Regina back at the motel. And again when he eavesdropped on Jerry in his study. He had been wondering what it was, and now it looked like he was finally going to figure it out.

Jerry left his spot in front of the mausoleum to join his family, all of whom had crowed together, facing the entrance. They left a wide semi-circle of space between themselves and the building. While the seconds ticked by, Sam and Dean waited with baited breath, anxious about what could be coming next.

At precisely midnight, the entrance to the mausoleum began to glow. A blinding white light poured out of the opening. Just as it was almost beginning to be too much to bear, it began to fade, and two figures could be seen emerging from the glow.

Once the glow emanating from the mausoleum dissipated, and Sam and Dean's eyes readjusted to the dimmer glow of the torches and the bonfire, they could get a clearer look at the two figures that had emerged. The smaller figure was a little girl, clutched in the arms of the larger. She was screaming and crying and lashing out at anything that came too close. That included the larger figure, who was actually someone that the boys recognized.

" _Crowley_?!"

* * *

A/N: For 'The blood will tell' _,_ I just used an online English to Latin translator to get ' _Erit autem sanguis vobis dico_.' If that translation is wrong, someone please let me know, because I don't really speak Latin. Thanks!

Also, not sure if it was clear, but the mausoleum and the graveyard are actually on the Kings' estate. It's a _very_ large property.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: I'm so, _**SO**_ sorry this took so long. Please forgive me! I've had a lot of stuff going on lately, and I just haven't had much time to get to this. I was evicted and then homeless for a little while. Wound up sleeping in my van. Then I went couch-hoping for a few months before some relatives took pity on me and gave me a room.

Anyways, enough of my sob story. Here's the next chapter, and it's _extra_ long, so I hope you all enjoy!

Also, I have changed Crowley's back story a bit. Hope you don't mind :)

Trigger warnings: homophobic slur(s) and blatant sexism. I personally hate both, but it's necessary for the character.

* * *

Chapter 8

Stepping out of the mausoleum, holding a screaming and crying little girl, was none other than the King of Hell, himself.

" _Crowley_?!" Sam and Dean quietly exclaimed in unison.

"What the hell is Crowley doing here?" Dean asked in confusion and not a small amount of mounting anger.

"And what the _hell_ as he done to that girl?!" Sam asked, fury lacing his words. He had to resist the urge to run to the girl's rescue, and put the demon blade through Crowley's heart for good measure.

As the brothers watched, the King family rushed towards Crowley, trying to removing the girl from his arms and trying to console her. At first, the child seemed confused, and when everyone got too close, she panicked and started thrashing about even more violently than before. Crowley set her down on the ground and stepped away, allowing the family to get better access to her.

One of the women leaned over her and grabbed the girl's face, forcing her to make eye contact, and calmly speaking to the frightened child. Sam and Dean were too far away to make out what the woman said to the girl, but whatever it was, it seemed to work. The girl got a good look at the woman, blinking back tears, and finally calmed down. Her thrashing stopped and she reached out and clutched the woman tightly. The two hugged and cried into each others shoulders for a long time before the woman helped the girl up, and she was able to stand on her own two feet.

When she was standing, the girl looked around at the assembled family and gave a brave smile. Seeing that she was okay, the rest of the family cheered and fully engulfed the girl. They surrounded her and were apparently giving her hugs and much-needed comfort. Many of them seemed to be beaming with pride. Eventually, the brothers lost sight of the girl in the throng of her relatives.

A few of them broke away from the throng to greet Crowley, who had been standing to the side, observing the reunion. Milah was one of the people to greet him. Despite her injuries, she shrieked and ran to him as best as she could, actually reaching him first. When she got to him, she shouted, "UNCLE CROWLEY!" loud enough for Dean and Sam to hear from their hiding spot.

She jumped into his arms, and he embraced her, swinging her around, shouting, "POPPET!"

Sam and Dean looked at each other incredulously, not believing what they were witnessing.

" _Uncle_?"

" _Poppet_? What the _hell_ is goin' on around here?" Dean asked, beginning to get frustrated.

Milah and Crowley finally separated, allowing a few others to greet the King of Hell, pulling him into milder hugs than the one he received from Milah and clapping him on the back. Meanwhile, two cars pulled up to the scene from a dirt road leading to the celebration, parking next to a mini-lot of other vehicles that were parked in the grass. The cars belched out late-comers, including Ramona, who all swiftly joined in on the festivities.

"Wasn't she supposed to be guarding us?" Sam asked.

"She's _not_ good at her job," Dean replied, chuckling. "I'm just happy she rode back here with those others, instead of takin' the path through the cemetery and finding us here."

"Yeah, me too."

Sam and Dean watched the family reunion for a few more minutes, trying to find something in the scene that would answer at least _one_ of their questions. Like, what's with the monsters? Who is that little girl, and what happened to her? What's _Crowley_ doing here? And what was with the figgin' glowing mausoleum?!

After a while, when it became apparent that they weren't going to be getting any answers from simply watching the scene unfolding before them, Sam said, "Hey man, we should get outta here before one of them spots us."

Dean watched the Kings and the King for a few moments more before answering. "Yeah. Yeah, let's get outta here."

The two of them slowly rose from their crouching positions behind the grave markers, being careful not to be seen by the rejoicing throng of people. There had to be close to a hundred sets of eyes, and it would only take one of them for the Winchesters to be royally screwed. So they carefully picked their way back through the family cemetery, doing their best not to be spotted during their retreat.

Once the celebrating family was out of eyesight, they picked up the pace, falling into a light jog so they could quickly make it back to the tunnel and into their rooms before anyone discovered that they had been snooping about. They started feeling a bit more at ease when they reached the stone pillars once more; however, their relief was short-lived.

"Hello, boys."

Sam and Dean nearly jumped out of their skins at the sound of the voice just a few inches from their backs. They halted in their tracks and quickly spun around, coming face to face with Crowley.

The twin expressions of shock and surprise on the Winchesters' faces caused Crowley to chuckle before saying, "Well, well. What do we have here? A couple of Winchester _spies_?"

Dean and Sam quickly recovered from their initial shock and tried to play it cool. Dean said, "Naw... we were just... gettin' a look at the place. Ya know, takin' a tour."

Sam gave Dean a prize bitch face before saying, "Dude, you don't really think he's gonna buy that do you?"

"He might, if a certain _bitch_ would shut his cake hole for once," Dean snapped.

"Well, ya _jerk_ , he _obviously_ saw us leaving that reunion back there. Otherwise, why would he just randomly show up _right_ behind us?"

Dean was going to protest further, but Crowley cut him off. "As much as I love seeing you denim-clad bafoons going at each other, I really don't have all night. Sam's right, I _did_ see you two leaving the party; and without even bothering to say 'hello and goodbye' to me – that rather hurt my feelings, by the way, darlings. That's quite rude, you know. Besides, have you forgotten I can read minds? I _am_ a very powerful demon after all."

"We were just-" Sam began, but was interrupted.

"I know exactly what you were doing, Moose: you were spying. However, maybe you can answer me just one little question," Crowley said, raising a single finger to emphasize the request.

"Okay," the brothers said in unison.

"I know _what_ you were doing, but tell me... _why_ the _bloody hell_ are you even _on_ this compound?!" Crowley asked, nearly shouting the second part.

"We were invited," Sam supplied, rolling his eyes at Crowley's dramatics.

" _Invited_?!" Sam and Dean nodded, looking confused. "Which of these _numskulls_ would be _stupid_ enough to-" Crowley cut himself off as realization hit him. "Danny... It was Danny, wasn't it?" Again, the boys nodded. Crowley heaved a great sigh and cast his eyes skyward as if to say 'why me'. "I swear, I should have killed that boy a long time ago."

Dean had finally had enough. "Look Crowley, either tell us what the hell is goin' on or get the hell outta here!"

"And why, my squirrelly friend, would I do that?"

"Because if you don't, then I'm gonna go to my car, grab some silver bullets and go to town on this whole freaky family!"

"And what makes you think I care?"

"Why else would you be so concerned about what we're doing here?" Sam supplied.

"Plus there was that whole thing with Milah," Dean said. "Oh and... ' _poppet_ '?! What kinda King of Rotten are you?" he asked with a gesture of disbelief.

Crowley looked from Dean to Sam and back again, assessing the situation, before saying, "Aaaahhhh _fine_! I'll tell you what's going on. But not here. I'll assume you two are staying in the mansion, yes? I'll meet you there."

In a blink, he was gone. The brothers gave each other matching looks of exasperation and then continued their trek back to the main house to meet Crowley and, hopefully, get some much-needed answers.

* * *

Soon after their meeting with Crowley in the woods, the brothers met him again in the foyer of the King Mansion. It took them a few minutes to find him, since the elusive demon didn't tell them _where_ in the mansion to meet him.

When they finally found him, Dean was ready to tear the little cockroach a new one. They didn't have time to play hide-and-seek. But before he could get one word in, Crowley hooked a finger at the boys and turned, walking down a corridor, without waiting to see if the they would follow; but of course they did. Half way down, he turned right into a wide set of double doors made of thick, carved mahogany. It was a vast library that was laden with shelf after shelf of books. There was so much info that it very nearly rivaled the bunker.

Crowley crossed over to a seating area where there was a wheeled cart full of decanters of liquids in various colors. He poured himself a glass of something dark brown, and seated himself in the most over-stuffed monstrosity in the room. Sam and Dean also sat, and waited impatiently for Crowley to spill it.

"So... where shall we start?" Crowley asked before taking a long sip of his drink and setting it down on a small table to his right.

"Oh, I don't know. How about starting with the freaky as monster family?" Dean said sarcastically.

"Oh, they chose that path."

Sam and Dean exchanged incredulous looks before Sam gave Crowley a winning bitch face and, "Yeah. Sure. They _chose_ it. Because who _wouldn't_ wanna be a monster?"

"Of course they _chose_ it, but not all of them are monsters, of course," Crowley confirmed, taking another sip of his drink before setting it back down. "Just the ones who opted out."

"Opted out?" Dean asked, glancing at Sam again, who looked equal confused. "Opted out of _what_ Crowley? Start making sense!"

"Well. Maybe I should start from the beginning then, hm?"

"Ya think?" Sam and Dean snarked simultaneously.

"Okay, okay. Keep your flannels on, boys. I'm getting there. So... where to begin... where... to... begin?" Crowley paused dramatically, tapping his chin with a finger and looking thoughtful. He was going to enjoy making the brothers squirm while he took his sweet time.

"Crowley..." Dean growled in warning.

Crowley took another moment to pretend to think before delving into the story he had to tell. "Ah yes. Well, it all started many years ago. Right here, in the good ol' US of A."

* * *

 _In 1916, Archibald Alexander King was a poor man with ten hungry brats to feed and a wife who was constantly nag, nag, nagging him about it. You see, dear old Archie was supposed to be in the Great War but, being the coward that he was, he purposefully maimed himself to avoid being drafted. Yes, I know. Such an_ upstanding _citizen, wasn't he? Well, he didn't really think through his little plan, or maybe he did, because another result of his self-mutilation was that he was unable to work to provide for his wife and horde of young ones. He had healed poorly from the sledge hammer that he took to his leg, so he walked with a very pronounced limp._

 _And since Archie was such an_ upstanding _man, no wife of_ his _was going to be a "working gal", so he refused to give her permission to work, since women_ did _need their husband's permission to take up employment back in the good ol' days. Plus, there was the fact that he, a_ man, _would have to take on the quote-unquote "womanly duties" about the house if she were allowed to work. That, of course, would be completely unacceptable. The boys who were old enough to work only brought home a few pennies a day; not nearly enough to feed a family of twelve._

 _So, the family slowly starved._

 _But then one day, the little lady had had enough. Gertrude-Beth, wife and mother of ten, refused to let her children starve. She approached her husband while he sat in his chair in the family room, silently watching the fire crackling away in the hearth. He was blissfully unaware of his wife approaching him from behind. A few of the children were playing on the floor, the eldest boys were out earning pennies, and her girls were doing their chores. None of them were paying attention to their mother as she strode through the family room, with hubby's shotgun clutched in her hands._

 _She raised the gun, nestled it against her shoulder, pointed it at the back of dear old Archie's head, and cocked it._

 _The noise drew his attention, so he turned around and to stare down the barrel of his_ own _gun in the hands of his beloved wife._

" _Gert. Wha- what are you doing, woman? Put that down, before you hurt yourself. A gun isn't something for a woman to handle." As he spoke, he stood and faced his wife. She followed his movements with the gun, never letting it stray from him his head. By this time, all of the children in the home were finally looking up at their parents, and they watched on in horror as Mother threatened Father._

" _Archibald. Our children are starving while you sit here on your_ ass! _You won't let me work, so. You. Need. To. Do._ Something _! Or I swear to God, I will kill you where you stand and find work as a_ widow. _I won't need your permission if you're dead!"_

" _Gertrude, listen to yourself. Do you realize what you're saying?"_

" _Of course I realize what I'm saying, Archie. I'm saying either find a way to make us money so we can_ feed our children, _or I will!"_

" _Please, honey. The boys are out now mak-"_

" _The boys don't make enough and you know it!"_

" _Mama-"_

" _NOT NOW MARGARET!" Gertrude shouted at her youngest daughter, who was sitting on the floor, clutching her homemade rag doll, tears shinning in her eyes. She looked terrified of the scene unfolding before her. In fact, all of the children present looked scared witless._

 _Seeing an opportunity, Archibald said, "Dear, please, you're upsetting the children." He tried to approach his hysterical wife, hands raised, hoping to get the gun from her._

 _Gertrude-Beth did not falter. "Stay back, Archie! I'm not bluffing. Our children are not going to starve to death just because you were too stupid, or to_ lazy _to do your duties! You're a poor excuse for a husband_ and _an American!"_

" _Alright, alright, Gertie," Archie said, keeping his hands raised. "I'll go out tomorrow and- and try to find something I can do. Okay?"_

" _No! You go_ now _!" Gertrude took a step towards her husband to emphasize her point and show that she was serious; and she was. She didn't_ want _to kill her husband - she did love him once - but she would be damned before she let anyone –_ anyone _– endanger the lives of her children._

" _Alright Gertie. Alright! I'll go now," Archie stammered out quickly to appease his wife. He quickly backed away from her and limped in the direction of the door, stumbling over a leg of his chair on the way. He quickly righted himself and bolted out of the door as quickly as his gimp leg would allow._

 _Gertrude-Beth followed his movements with the shotgun, and didn't lower it until the door slammed shut behind her husband._

* * *

"Crowley! Is this story actually _going_ somewhere?" Dean demanded, patience wearing thin. "I mean, this is interesting and all, but what does it have to do with that... _freakiness_ we saw outside?"

"Oh course it's going somewhere, Squirrel. And it has _everything_ to do with the 'freakiness' outside. Have a little patience, hm? I mean look at your brother," Crowley motioned to Sam, who raised his eyebrows at the mention of his name. With his glass empty, Crowley got up and freshened his drink saying, "He's the epitome of calm and serene. Why can't you be more like him."

"Crowley, come on..." Sam pleaded. He may look calm and serene, but his patience was wearing just as thin as his brother's.

Crowley took a long sip from his freshly-filled glass, letting out a contented sign as he regarded the contents. "Nobody appreciates good story-telling these days." He took his seat again before continuing his story. "Just calm down and _don't_ interrupt. The climax of my tale is coming up next." The brothers each made an exasperated motion for Crowley to continue. "Now where was I? Ah yes."

* * *

 _Well, Archibald never went to find gainful employment, as his dear wife commanded him to. Instead, he limped just down the road to the local tavern._

 _Now, what his wife didn't know, was that Archie had_ two _wallets. One that had a bit of money in it, an another, empty one, that he showed Gertrude to prove to her that he didn't have any money when she got too demanding for funds to feed their horde of children. The empty one he kept in his right back pocket, and his real wallet was kept in his left. It was this wallet that he pulled out to pay for a glass of cheap whiskey._

 _He figured once he gave his lovely wife a few hours to cool off, then he could swoop back in and reclaim control of his home. A man's home is, after all, his castle, and she was just a woman. Prone to hysterics. Her mood would change soon. She'd put down the gun, and he'd teach her a woman's place. With his fists, if he had to. And he'd also have to hide that blasted gun._

 _Around the time Archie was finishing with his second drink, a_ devilishly _handsome young man entered the tavern. This_ particular _young man had been frequenting this_ particular _tavern for the better part of a fortnight. He made his usual rounds, greeting the regulars and a few of his..._ business associates. _It was during this sweep of the tavern that the young man finally noticed Archibald sitting alone at the bar. Well, being the charitable sort, the man decided to approach the lonely patron._

 _Archie was starting in on his third drink at the time, and our young newcomer could tell that something was bothering the man._

" _Trouble in paradise?" The young man asked._

" _That obvious, huh?" Archie asked, taking a sip of his drink._

" _Call it a gift." He sat down and ordered a drink of his own. "Why don't you tell me about it?"_

 _Archie didn't now if it was the drink that was lowering his inhibitions or if it was the kindness on the young man's face which promised sympathy. Either way, he felt like opening up to the stranger._

" _It's my wife. She doesn't seem to understand a woman's place in the household. Since when does the_ woman _tell the_ man _what to do?" Archie scoffed and took a sip of his drink, shaking his head in disgust as he set down the glass. He was disgusted in his own life. How had it gotten like this? "You know she pointed a gun at me today? That's right. A gun. Right at my head! Demanded that I make some money to feed our children._ She's _the woman. Feeding the children is_ her _responsibility! Not mine!"_

" _So you came to this quaint little tavern to... seek employment as a barkeep?" The young man smirked at his own quip. Archibald cut his eyes at the stranger, but didn't say anything else. Just took another sip of his whiskey. The stranger did the same, tipping his cup and taking a generous gulp before saying, "Well, Archie. It looks like you've gotten yourself into one_ hell _of a conundrum, haven't you?"_

" _Yeah well I can't- wait..." Archie paused, giving the stranger a pointed look. "I never told you my name, did I?"_

" _What if I told you I could help you out?" The stranger asked, ignoring Archie's suspicion._

 _Archie scoffed. "How can_ you _help_ me?" _He looked the stranger in the eye for the first time and was shocked to see them flash a vibrant red. He gasped and squeezed his own eyes shut, shaking his head. When he opened his eyes again, the stranger's were back to normal, but a deadly smirk played at his lips. Archie didn't know if it was a trick of the light, or if he was too drunk to see straight; but a small part of him said he knew what he saw. "Who are you?" Archie asked with some trepidation._

" _The name's Crowley. And I do believe we can be of service to one another."_

* * *

"Whoa, whoa, wait! It was _you?!"_ Dean asked incredulously.

Crowley rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. "Are one of you going to interrupt me every few minutes? Because this is going to take all night if you are."

"Yeah Dean. Don't interrupt."

Dean shot his little brother his own version of a bitch face, but didn't say anything else. Sam suppressed a chuckle

"Please continue Crowley," Sam said cordially.

"Thank you. Now, as I was saying..."

* * *

" _The name's Crowley. And I do believe we can be of service to one another."_

" _'Service'? What do you mean_ 'service'?

" _I mean I can help you with your little domestic squabble. It seems like money is the problem, yes?"_

" _Who doesn't have money problems? Anyhow, I don't need any help. All my wife needs is a firm hand to get her back in line."_

" _And_ you _are going to provide that, are you? The same man who was too much of a coward to fight for his country?"_

" _Hey there stranger!" Archie said angrily, rising off of his stool on wobbly legs. "Those are fightin' words."_

" _And you're going to fight me? Why then do I feel perfectly safe?"_

 _Archie seemed to weigh his options. Taking his time to think through his whiskey-induced haze. After a moment, he sat back down with a dejected huff and quietly asked, "How can you help me?"_

" _I would like to make a trade."_

" _I don't have anything."_

" _You have exactly what I need. And, the best part is: you won't even miss it."_

" _What is it?"_

" _Your soul."_

" _My- my_ soul _?"_

" _Yes."_

 _Realization suddenly struck as it finally dawned on him what the young man was talking about. Archie was raised in a devout Catholic home. He had heard the tales of demons who feasted on the souls of men. He never really believed the tales told to him during his childhood, and he didn't really see the point in picking up the beliefs now. The man was obviously delusional. Archie stood to leave._

" _Well stranger, it's been swell. But I have a home to reclaim." He downed the last of his drink and slammed the glass back down onto the bar before wobbling out of the bar on unsteady legs._

 _He was halfway back home, a few minutes later, when he nearly ran straight into the young man from the bar. "Crampton – no... Crowley! That's it." Archie stumbled over the name of the fellow in front of him. He confusedly looked back the way he had just came, towards the tavern, then back to the man impeding his journey home. "How- how did you get ahead of me? I left you back_ there _!" Archie jabbed a finger back in the direction he came._

" _Yes. I'm well aware. However, we still have business to discuss." Eyes flashing red again, they held Archie in place, captivating him momentarily as he realized that he hadn't been imaging the same thing before. Shortly, he remembered himself and forced his eyes away._

 _He turned around, fear gripping his heart, eyes blown and breath suddenly coming in sharp rasps, and decided that trying to find an alternate, albeit longer, route home would be the best course of action. Anything to get away from the apparition before him._

 _However, before he could make it two steps, the stranger was before him yet again. Archie looked behind himself, verifying that it was in fact the same man, and not just a twin or doppelganger. He looked back at the stranger, who was slowing closing the inches between the two of them. Panicking, Archie tried to shy away from the man, but wound up tangling his unsteady feet together, causing himself to trip and fall to the dirt road with an_ oomph _!_

" _Stay back! Stay_ back _, I say!"_

 _The young man halted his progression, seemingly towering over the other man. "As I've said: we can be of service to one another." His eyes were still burning red, and they seemed to bore into Archie's soul; but the gaze didn't seem threatening, it actually seemed... appraising?_

 _Swallowing the lump in his throat, Archie slowly worked until his feet were under him, and he was able to stand again. His initial fear was slowly being replaced with cautious curiosity. Maybe this strange man, with his strange eyes and strange powers could actually help him._

" _What- what do I have to- what do_ we _have to-"_

 _The young man cut off Archie's fumbling. "All you have to do is agree to the deal. That's all."_

" _Alright. So, you get my_ soul _, in exchange for..." Archie trailed off, waiting for the other man to finish the thought._

" _Anything you want."_

" _Money?"_

" _Of course."_

 _Archie chuckled at his next thought. "An obedient wife?" He asked halfheartedly._

" _Yes."_

 _Archie's eyes widened. "Really?"_ Now _they were getting somewhere._

" _If that's what you want." The man stepped a little closer to Archie._

" _Of course that's what I want. It's what_ all _men want." Archie licked his lips in greedy anticipation. "Okay. Deal." Archie thrust his hand forward, expecting a simple handshake to seal the deal._

" _Actually," the stranger said, closing the space between them even more, "it's going to take a little more than a handshake to seal a deal of this magnitude."_

" _Then," Archie began, getting confused, dropping his hand, "how? Do I need to sign something?" he looked the man up and down, as if expecting a contract to materialize._

 _The man edged just a little closer to Archie, now standing just inches away. Archie resisted the urge to back away, not wanting to offend the man – or whatever he was – while he was so close to getting what he wanted. "A deal like this has to be sealed... with a kiss."_

" _A kiss?!" Archie quickly backed away, offenses be damned. "With_ you?"

" _Yes, with me." He stepped a little closer trying to regain the lost closeness._

" _Well I'm no_ faggot _!" Archie stepped back again, trying to regain some distance._

" _That's neither here, nor there." He stepped closer yet again. "A deal like this_ must _be sealed with a kiss. There is no other way."_

" _Uh-uh. No way!" Archie backed away once again, waving his hands in front of himself, as if to fend off the other man's advances._

" _Well okay... if that's your choice." He halted his advance._

 _Archie, who had tensed up momentarily, relaxed. He lowered his hands. "Okay then." He started to walk away again, in the direction of his house._

" _Heading home?" The stranger called out to him._

" _Ah... y- yes." He hesitated before stopping and half turning back to the young man._

" _I see. Back home to your starving children and disobedient wife? A wife who, if I may remind you, will kill you when you arrive back home empty-handed?"_

 _Archie was going to say 'yes', but hesitated. The man was right. "Well..."_

" _No one is around," the man slowly turned in a circle, arms sweeping wide, showcasing the deserted dirt road. "Just a few seconds, and you get everything you've ever wanted."_

 _Archie looked around and saw that the road was indeed empty. No houses adorned this part of the road either, so there would be no one to look out their window at an inopportune moment."But- but I told you: I'm not a faggot." He tried protesting again, but it was halfhearted._

" _And I told_ you _: it doesn't matter. You can have all the money that you will ever need for your family; and your wife won't blow you to smithereens when you get home. She'll even be completely docile and obedient." He again started making his advance towards Archie._

 _This time Archie did not retreat. Instead, he slowly turned so he was fully facing the other man, and held his ground. His palms grew sweaty and his hear was hammering in his chest, causing his breathing to come in raggedly._

 _The stranger finally reached Archie. He stood still a moment, just looking at the frightened man, waiting to see if he would if he would try to bolt again. He didn't. Taking that as his queue to continue, he finished closing the distance between them. He reached up and put his hand on the back of Archie's head, pulling him closer. Archie gulped nervously before his lips were gently brushed by the other man's. When their lips met, and Archie did not immediately pull away, the young man smashed their mouth together, deepening the kiss._

 _Archie closed his eyes. Seeing nothing was better than seeing the other man's face so close to his. The dark lashes resting against smooth, pale skin. His cheeks rising and falling with the movements of his mouth. No, seeing nothing but darkness was preferable. How long did the kiss have to las- his thoughts were cut off as a foreign tongue invaded his mouth, smooth and warm. He clutched his hands into fists at his side to resist the urge to bring them up to the other man's head, and carding his fingers in his hair. But all thoughts of propriety were lost as the strange man put his free hand on Archie's waist, pulling him closer; the hand on his head gripping his hair tighter. He quickly put one hand on the man's back, and the other through his neatly-combed black hair, mussing it up._

 _The kiss deepened, and Archie found himself wanting more, but just then, the stranger pulled away, leaving Archie feeling lost and abandoned. However, he quickly regained his composure, breathing heavily and wiping his kiss-swollen lips with the back of his hand; though no amount of rubbing could wipe away the flush in his cheeks. "I'm no faggot," he said quietly, though he didn't know whether he was telling himself or the other man._

" _Regardless, t_ _he deal is done." And with that, the stranger was gone, in the blink of an eye._


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sam and Dean stared at Crowley in open astonishment.

"What?" Crowley asked, shrugging his shoulders defensively.

"Dude, do you think you can skip any and all future make-out sessions that you're involved in?" Sam asked with mild disgust.

"I second that," Dean agreed, raising a finger in the air to emphasize the point.

"There's nothing wrong with adding a little _flare_ to a good story-telling, darlings."

"Okay, well, just leave out all of the 'flare' from now on, alright?" Dean all but demanded, while suppressing a shudder. He did _not_ want to imagine Crowley locking lips with some long-dead assbutt (as Cas would have put it).

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Crowley said, "Alright," while waving a dismissive hand.

"Wait," Sam said, before Crowley could continue his story. "Did you even tell the guy that he would only have ten years?"

"Actually, no. It didn't exactly come up." He took another sip of his drink.

Sam scoffed. "Well don't you think it would have been some valuable info for the guy to know?"

"Who the hell cares, Sammy? The guy was a major d-bag!"

"Well, yeah, with a capital D; but isn't that part of the deal? You gotta tell 'em what they're signing up for."

"Actually, no," Crowley reiterated. "Telling a sap about the Ten-Year Clause is purely altruistic on the part of the demon."

"There ya go, Sammy. A legal term for the law student," Dean chuckled. Sam just shot his brother an angry look, but didn't say anything. "Alright, Crowley. So where's this never-ending story going?"

"I'm getting there, Darling."

"Alright, well, hurry it the hell up." Dean's already-paper-thin patience was wearing even thinner.

Without further preamble, much to the relief of the Winchesters, Crowley continued his tale.

* * *

 _No more pussy-footing around. You know it was me, so I'll speak plainly._

 _I was interested in Archie, so I decided to... escort him home. Without him knowing, of course. He was limping heavily, and I could tell he was thinking he should have also had me fix his leg in the deal; but oh well. He made his way up to the front stoop of his home. He could hear the sounds of his younger children laughing and his older children talking. His boys were usually home by this time. He couldn't understand what they were saying, but they were most likely discussing the day's events: how much they had earned, what needed to be done tomorrow, how Mama almost killed Papa. You know, the usual. Whatever they were discussing, they seemed to be very excited about it._

 _He hesitated before opening the door. What if it hadn't worked? Would he walk in and be blown away by his disgruntled wife? Fear kept him from opening the door while he tried and failed to find the courage to enter. He was debating on whether he should just leave instead of risking death, but the choice was taken from him as the front door was yanked open and his Gertie was standing on the other side with a wide grin on her face._

" _Archie! You finally made it!" She reached for him, taking her husband in her arms, ignoring his visible flinch when she embraced him. He quickly recovered and hugged her back before she pulled away to drag him inside, chattering excitedly the whole time. "You'll never believe what happened, Archie, dear! You know how little Clara likes to dig in the dirt outside – I know, dear I know – 'the dirt is no place for a_ girl _to play,'" Gertrude recited her husband's usual lecture when she saw the look of distaste on his face at the mention of his daughter's usual antics. "But I think you'll feel a little differently about it this time!"_

 _During her jabbering, his children had come to greet him excitedly and welcome him home, many of them were also jabbering away just as excitedly as their mother. Gertrude shooed them away, telling them that_ she _would be the one to share the good news with him. They obeyed and retreated, watching as their mother tended to their father. She steered him towards his favorite chair and brought over one of their low stools. She lowered herself to her knees so that she could prop up his feet while she removed his shoes and replaced them with his worn house slippers._

 _Archie was impressed. His wife had not treated him so well since before the children were born. He began to relax a bit, but then tensed up once more as a thought occurred to him. "Gertrude-Beth," he asked asked suspiciously, "where is the gun?"_

" _Oh, that silly old thing?" Gertrude asked, waving a dismissive hand. "I put it away a few minutes ago. As you said: a gun is no thing for a woman to handle." Archie was even more impressed. Maybe that strange deal had worked, after all. "So, as I was saying: Clara was digging in the yard when the most unbelievable thing happened, Archie... We struck oil!"_

" _What?!" Archie couldn't believe his ears. He sat up straighter in his chair. "What do you mean 'we struck oil'?"_

" _Just as I said-" at that, all of the children, who had been listening and waiting for their mother to finally spill the beans, starting yakking away all at once. They were all, loudly and enthusiastically, trying to give their own account of what happened, but it came out in an unintelligible, garbled mess. "Children, children,_ please! _Not all at once. You'll overwhelm your poor father!"_

" _Papa, Papa!" Little Clara said, refusing to be quelled. "I dug up the oil! I dug up the oil!" She was saying, while animatedly jumping up an down. All of his children had inherited his bone-straight, platinum blonde hair; except for Clara and Lloyd, his seventh and tenth children, respectively, who had inherited their mother's chestnut curls._

" _Yes, Clara. So I've heard," Archie confirmed, indulgently. His family resumed their manic chatter, each of them competing to monopolize his attention._

 _It was a losing battle, however. The attention of their father and husband was, in fact, monopolized by yours truly. The strange man whom he was only now admitting to himself to being a demon. 'This must be the other part of our deal,' he thought. But what about the part that he, himself, would have to uphold? When would he have to relinquish his soul? Or was it already gone? How would he know?_

 _He felt that he must find out._

* * *

 _We are going to skip ahead now. To nearly ten years into the future. Archie has only a month left until he must pay up, an he is starting to panic; but only a little. He has a plan._

 _The oil well that was discovered beneath his home is one of the largest in the country, maybe even the world, and it shows no sign of emptying. During all this time, he has become a very wealthy man. I of course knew that he would be, but after that first night, I never checked on him again. However, during one particular night, I did learn quite a bit about his life. What he had been up to in the ten years leading up to it._

 _During the night that he summoned me._

 _I found myself at a crossroads, once again facing dear old Archibald Alexander King. "My, my, my. Isn't this a surprise," I said, putting my hands in my pockets and rocking back on my heels._

" _H-hello, Mr. Crowley. It's been a long time."_

" _So it has." I stopped rocking and looked him squarely in the eyes. I could see all that he had been through. I could hear his thoughts, the war going on inside his head. It was quite... amusing. But at the same time, it was perplexing. He seemed to be hiding some thing from me. It takes quite a bit of practice, and some skill, for someone to hide something from a mind-reading demon, so this was quite intriguing._

" _I have come..." he began, then stopped. "I would like to make another deal."_

 _I chuckled. I already knew that, but I kept silent. I would let him humiliate himself before destroying his hope of getting out of the deal. "Hm. And what deal would that be?" I waited for the inevitable: for him to beg for his life; maybe even repent, as if that would make a difference. As if_ that _would be enough to save his soul from the pit._

" _Well, it's more like a trade."_

" _A trade?" I asked. Archie nodded. "Well spit it out, man!"_

 _He flinch slightly, but carried on, nonetheless. "I've done quite a bit of research... talked to people. I bought quite a few books and I've learned quite a bit about your kind... demons." He swallowed hard, trying to calm his nerves._

" _Ah yes. The things wealth can afford you. And how's the missus?"_

" _Uh- she's fine," he stammered, confused by the subject change. "Um, obedient."_

" _And the children?"_

" _Well, yes. They're doing well also. M-my daughters have all been married off. All but my youngest son, as well. My eldest is expecting her first child soon..." He trailed off. "That's... that's partially what I wish to discuss with you."_

" _Oh?"_

" _I-" he swallowed again, "I don't want to go to Hell." He finally spit it out._

" _Well, there's nothing either of us can do about that. You made the deal willingly. I told you what I wanted. What did you expect would happen when you sold your soul to a demon?"_

" _I- I didn't really expect for it to work. It all seemed so... surreal."_

" _Yes, well, I assure you: it was quite real."_

" _I know!" He took a deep, steadying breath before plowing forward. "I'd like to trade my soul... for the soul of one of my children."_

 _My eyebrows shot up at that. "Well, that_ is _intriguing, isn't it?" I looked him up and down, appreciating the cruelty of the man, even though it stemmed from his trademark cowardice. But, "That's not enough," I informed him._

 _His face fell at that. "I was afraid you'd say that. Never take the first deal offered, right? Crossroads demons are business men, correct? So, how about... three of my children?"_

 _I chuckled at his desperation. I could tell he was beginning to fret. I wondered how far he would be willing to go. "That's still not enough for me to go through the trouble of changing our arrangement, nearly ten full years later. You know your contract is nearly up, right? I'm sure you gleaned that from your research, yes?"_

 _He took a deep breath before saying, "Yes. What about five of my children's souls? Or six! Six souls for my one. Please..."_

" _Oh don't beg, dear. It's not becoming." I pretended to think on it for a moment before answering. "No." His face fell at that, desperation rising. "It will still take more than that." I could see the wheels turning in his head._

" _Fine..." I could see that this was paining him. "All of them. All of my children's souls in exchange for mine. That's ten souls._ Ten _! That_ has _to be_ more _than enough."_

" _Hmmm. Interesting. You must love yourself very much." He didn't say anything as I thought over his offer, thought I did see the shadow of shame cross his features. I tapped a finger against my chin in thought. Finally I said, "I don't think you fully appreciate the magnitude of the situation. The importance that demons put on the deals they make. They are... sacred, for lack of a better word. A demon deal is not something that can just be tossed out and re-written at the merest whim!" I paused and let that sink in before I continued. I could see the hope dying in his eyes. "So, if you really want to renege on our original deal, what you are offering is not_ enough _!"_

 _It actually_ would _have been enough. Hell just wants souls. The more the better. We're not picky about_ how _we come across them, as long as we get them. Now, breaking a deal, that would have cost more than a one-on-one trade-off. A five-to-one would have been sufficient, but I was still curious to see how far he would go, so I egged him on. I didn't force him to do this, mind you. He could have walked away at any point and just accepted his fate. But no, he had to keep on upping the ante._

" _What about..." he paused to think. "What about_ all _of my progeny?" There was a tremor in his voice as he made the offer, no doubt thinking about his unborn grandchild, and all of the grandchildren to come._

 _I gave him a wide smile. "Now_ that's _more like it." I actually felt rather proud of the man. "Okay, so in exchange for keeping your soul from being condemned to hell, we shall instead condemn the souls of all of your children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and all other decedents of yours, until your line dies out, or until time stops. Whichever comes first. Correct?" Archie swallowed hard, yet again, but nodded all the same. "I will need vocal confirmation from you on this."_

 _Taking a deep breath, he said loud and clear, "Yes. That's the deal."_

" _Alright, then. That's the deal."_

 _So, we sealed the deal in the usual way. With a single kiss, Archibald Alexander King condemned his entire line to hell. All to save his own ass._

* * *

A/N: So, would anyone like to leave some feedback? What do you guys think of it so far? Let me know in the comments :)


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